


Turn Left

by Illeana Starbright (SunlightOnTheWater)



Series: Justice League Beginnings [1]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman Begins (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-31
Updated: 2015-01-26
Packaged: 2018-03-04 13:38:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 39,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3070241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunlightOnTheWater/pseuds/Illeana%20Starbright
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After seven years away, Bruce Wayne returned to Gotham City with a young child and a deadly mission. Retelling of the first Nolan movie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story was born out of three things. The first was my roommate purchasing the original cartoon Teen Titans series and the two of us binge watching the entire series over a period of about three evenings (for me for the first time). From there, I ended up watching Young Justice too and combine that with a superhero lit class last year ignited my imagination. The second was that I got frustrated with Supernatural. I've been trying to catch up with the series since last school year but I've become irritated with how some of the characters are portrayed and found myself watching Arrow instead. From the moment they mentioned Bludhaven on the show, my mind started trying to come up with ideas on how to connect Arrow to Batman. The last was the Doctor Who episode, Turn Left, from which the title comes from. For those unfamiliar with Doctor Who, in this episode the Doctor's traveling companion, Donna Noble, goes back in time and makes different choices that lead to disaster because she never met the Doctor.
> 
> To be honest, I have no idea how long this story will be or all the twists and turns it will take. I also am not certain how often it will be updated. I have the first chapter and part of the second written but with the chaotic way my brain works, sometimes updates can be few and far between. Constructive criticism and theorizing in reviews are always welcome (sometimes theories that get written into reviews work their way into my stories) and I hope you enjoy this!

_Go back to the beginning. Take a different road._

* * *

There were only two people on board the airplane aside from the pilot and co-pilot. The first was Bruce Wayne, the only child of Martha and Thomas Wayne of Gotham City. After witnessing his parents gunned down before him during a mugging gone wrong at the tender age of eight, Bruce had withdrawn into himself before becoming a rebellious child. Once he reached eighteen he became an infamous playboy and people considered him shallow as a bowl of water. At twenty, the Wayne heir vanished and had eventually been declared officially dead. The few friends he retained such as Rachel Dawes, a childhood best friend and crush, had mourned his death. Others, like Alfred Pennyworth, prayed each night that Bruce was not dead and would return home. Now, after seven years away from Gotham, Bruce found himself in a situation that required him to return.

The other person on board was a ten year old child who was small enough to be mistaken for eight. The boy's name was Richard Grayson and he had been a happy member of Haley's Circus, part of the world renowned Flying Graysons, until his parents had been killed. Bruce had filled out the official paperwork and taken Richard in when the boy was eight. If anyone had been searching for him, they would have been able to find him then but no one had and what had started as a temporary situation had quickly become permanent. Now Bruce was returning to Gotham with Richard at his side.

The twenty-seven year old glanced at the boy sleeping curled up in one of the seats, a fond smile gracing his lips for a moment. When Bruce had first taken Richard in, the boy had been nothing more than a shadow. It had taken months for Richard to overcome the trauma of seeing his parents murdered before his eyes, something Bruce might never forgive the League for allowing to be carried out. Eventually the child had reverted to his happy self, eagerly learning everything Bruce could teach him and in turn sharing some of the acrobatic tricks he'd learned from his parents. Bruce had hoped to give the boy a joyful child far away from the darkness and danger of Gotham but with the League threatening to destroy the city he was forced to bring the boy to the source of all his childhood pain.

The man brushed a hand through dark curls and the boy stirred, nuzzling up into Bruce's touch. Baby blue eyes blinked open for a moment before heavy eyelids drifted shut again, the small boy mumbling unhappily. Bruce settled down next to the child and glanced out the window, puffy white clouds drifting by. He found himself wondering just how much Gotham had changed in the seven years he was gone. Had Ra's been correct in believing that the city was not salvageable? The more important question was whether or not he was doing the right thing. He was taking the boy who'd become his son during the last year straight into danger. Not only was the League coming to destroy the city, but Gotham itself was full of things waiting to destroy a little boy.

The plane began its descent, the pure blue sky quickly being overtaken by sooty grey clouds. For a moment he saw the lights of nighttime Gotham down below before the plane banked and the city drifted out of sight. They were landing on the far side of Gotham in the smaller of the two airports, hopefully to avoid being swarmed by the press. Bruce had informed only Alfred of his return but there was no way to know whether or not someone had discovered his return via the League or some other source.

The plane touched down with a rough bump that startled Richard awake, his whole body flying out of the seat. Bruce scrambled to catch the child who buried his face in Bruce's shoulder with a whimper. "It's okay Dickie," he cooed to the boy who clung tightly to his protector. "We're just landing." The child nodded but refused to release the man and Bruce didn't protest the clinging. Richard often had nightmares and when he woke from them he tended to be clingy and fearful. The plane came to a smooth stop and the co-pilot emerged to inform the pair that they'd be ready to disembark in just a moment. Bruce nodded in acknowledgement and the man returned to the front of the plane. When the door to the plane was opened Bruce was already standing, Richard carefully cradled in his arms.

Alfred Pennyworth, the man who had done his best to raise Bruce after Martha and Thomas's death, was waiting by a new looking black car. Bruce approached him with a fond smile, steps momentarily lightened with the joy of seeing someone who was practically family. Alfred smiled slightly at the sight of the long lost Wayne heir, only to find the expression frozen on his face as he attempted to process what he was seeing. "It is good to see you again Master Bruce," the butler said at last.

"It's good to see you too Alfred," Bruce replied warmly, smiling widening when the older man's gaze turned towards the child in Bruce's arms.

"And who is this young sir?"

"This is Richard Grayson," Bruce informed the butler, carefully adjusting his hold on the boy who still had his head hidden against the man's shoulder. "My adopted son." Alfred's eyes twinkled as he turned to open the door of the car. Bruce set Richard carefully down in the seat, the boy relinquishing his hold on the man reluctantly to slide over to the middle seat, allowing Bruce to settle down next to him. The man carefully buckled the bleary eyed child in and Alfred pulled away from the dimly lit airport, heading through Gotham's winding streets towards Wayne Manor. Soon enough the boy was sound asleep, head resting against Bruce's side.

In contrast to the child, the Wayne heir was wide awake. He studied his surroundings, noting how far Gotham had fallen in the seven years since he'd been gone. When Martha and Thomas Wayne had been killed many of the city's charity organizations had shut down. Since then Gotham had grown steadily worse until it had reached the point where the League of Shadows believed they had to destroy it in order to keep the evil from spread. If it had not been for the misplaced love Ra's al'Ghul's daughter held for Bruce, he would have never heard of the plan. Bruce would have learned what the League planned far too late to even attempt to stop it and Gotham would have been left to its fate.

The car rolled to a stop inside the gates that protected Bruce's home from the outside world and the engine fell silent. Bruce unbuckled his seat belt and slipped out of the vehicle before Alfred could open the door, leaning down to carefully unbuckle and remove Richard. The boy mumbled unhappily at the movement but didn't wake, snuggling closer to Bruce's warmth. Alfred left the car in front of the house for the time being and led the way up the steps to open the massive door. "Welcome home Master Bruce," he said with a gentle smile as Bruce Wayne stepped inside the manor for the first time in seven years.

For a moment all the man could do was stare at the place he'd thought at one point he'd never return to. Wayne Manor had been too large and silent after Thomas and Martha's murder. It had been that silence that Bruce had been running from as much as his own past but now there would be no more running. The League was coming which meant Bruce needed to face his fears and insecurities in order to save hundreds, if not thousands, of innocent lives. Richard mumbled and nuzzled his head against the man's shoulder, reminding him that he wasn't alone in this. Richard would, undoubtedly, force the man to let him help.

"Is my bedroom still made up?" Bruce questioned but Alfred was already shaking his head in denial.

"I will make up the master bedroom Master Bruce," the butler told him. "Shall I prepare a room for Master Richard as well?" Bruce glanced at the boy in his arms before shaking his head slightly. The ten year old often had nightmares and waking up alone in an unfamiliar room wouldn't be a good start to Richard's arrival to Gotham.

"Not tonight. We can get him settled in his own room tomorrow," Bruce replied and Alfred nodded, making his way up the stairs. The entrance hall had changed little in the seven years Bruce had been absent. The same high ceiling, the same tiled floors, the same burgundy colored rug by the door. It was almost as if he had never left.

The man made his way silently through the entryway, not a single footstep echoing off the high ceiling, and entered the elegant sitting room. The fireplace grate was closed and the couches and chairs all covered with dust covers. It was an obvious sign of the very abandonment of Wayne Manor. With Bruce, the final Wayne, presumed dead Wayne Manor had stood empty for seven years with only Alfred occasionally puttering around inside it. That was a painful thought.

"Master Bruce." The butler's voice broke his charge from his thoughts, the Wayne heir turning around to face the older man. "The room is ready," Alfred continued, motioning for Bruce to follow him.

The master bedroom was much as Bruce remembered from his childhood. The walls were painted a smooth creme color, the same as the ceiling, and the bed was in the center of the room. Two windows stared about a foot away from the bed on each side and the end tables made it obvious which side his mother had inhabited and which side his father had. The big paneled sliding door on the closet was pulled firmly shut though Bruce's memories insisted that it should be filled with his father's neatly pressed dress shirts and slacks and his mother's elegant dresses. Seven years away had dulled the painful ache the room had always caused, leaving behind fond and slightly bittersweet nostalgia.

Alfred had made up the bed with fresh sheets and the royal blue comforter Martha Wayne had chosen. Bruce settled his young charge down on the bed, pulling the covers up to the boy's shoulders. Richard mumbled a moment and then snuggled into the covers, curling up in a little ball. The man smiled slightly and settled on the other side of the bed on top of the covers. Exhausted by the long journey back to Gotham, he quickly slipped into the open arms of sleep.

* * *

Across the town, Carmine Falcone was not sleeping. Instead he was sitting in a sleek black car as his men unloaded the most recent load of drugs. The drugs had been shipped internationally inside teddy bears to avoid detection. Falcone would then resell the drugs to the addicted citizens of Gotham in the Narrows. With his contacts in the local police department, the most risky part of his operation was over. The authorities overseas had not caught him and the Gotham police never would. The local crime lord was free to make his profit at his leisure. What Falcone did not know, was that his undoing had just arrived in town on the same night as his shipment. It wouldn't be long before Carmine Falcone would be hitting the news in a big way.

A man knocked on the window of Falcone's car and the driver rolled the window down, staring impassively ahead. The old man disapproved of his boss's business venture in a big way but was wise enough not to say anything. Instead on these surveillance runs he stared impassively ahead, pretending he couldn't see what was going on and radiating disapproval. A younger man with a grease stained face leaned in through the window to grin at Falcone. "It's all here boss," he announced cheerfully. "And loaded up for us to take in."

"Good," Falcone replied, his voice flat. The young man's smile never faltered. That was what had earned him his nickname, smiling Petey. Most of the men that worked with him had long ago decided that Petey was a little addled in the head but ultimately harmless. Falcone knew better. Petey might have been addled in the head but he was absolutely deadly if necessary and completely loyal to his boss. That was why Petey was in charge of unloading. If any of the men would try to skim a few pouches, Petey would shoot them.

"Have a nice night boss," Petey said and then leaned back so the driver could shut the window.

"Home Jeeves," Falcone said, one side of his mouth pulling up in a thin smirk. The driver, whose name was Walters, let out a disapproving huff and pulled away from the docks. It was only then that the crime boss settled back in his seat with a pleased smile. Tonight was a good night.


	2. Chapter 2

_"Bad times have a scientific value. These are occasions a good learner would not miss."- Ralph Waldo Emerson_

* * *

_The lights focused on their faces that fateful night. He was standing on the platform waiting for his cue when the first ropes snapped and his mother began to fall, eyes wide and arms outstretched towards her beloved husband. A hush fell over the crowd only to be replaced by a relieved cheer as the man managed to snatch her fingers. That was when the second set of ropes snapped. A child's high scream of terror cut through the air like a finely honed blade as he watched his parents topple head over heels towards the unrelenting ground. The child's wail continued on but was lost under the startled screams of the crowd. The boy didn't stop screaming at the sight for a long time.  
_

Richard Grayson launched upright with a strangled gasp, fighting against the blankets wrapped around his tiny frame. The boy flailed in panic, heart pounding against his chest and eyes blurring with frantic tears. A second set of hands worked calmly to help untangle him and the moment Richard was free he flung himself across the bed to rest against a broad chest, sobbing softly. "It's okay," Bruce soothed as Richard struggled to shake off the awful memory, clutching his guardian's shirt tightly. "It's okay."

The boy felt himself calm slowly, grip loosening as he began to relax. Swiping tears away from his cheeks, he pulled back to study his surroundings. The room was relatively colorless, though it looked as if it had once been lived in. An elegant blue and green glass lamp was settled on one dark wood end table that probably cost more than what his parents had made in a year. The sheets were smooth and finely woven and the comforter, bunched at the end of the bed, most likely cost more than anything made of fabric had a right to cost. Surrounded by wealth like this, no matter how subtle, made the boy feel a little out of place.

"Morning," he said almost sheepishly, fingers twitching slightly before clenching in the sheets.

"Morning," Bruce replied, smiling slightly. Richard smiled back, the last of the tension caused by his nightmares washed away.

"What's the plan?" he asked, raising big blue eyes to look his guardian in the eyes.

"I have to be officially declared alive," Bruce replied. "And stop by the office."

"What about me?"

"I have a job for you." Bruce's smile said he had a secret, something that was just between the two of them, and Richard felt an answering smile cross his face. This was definitely going to be fun.

* * *

Rachel Dawes clicked in heels across the tile floor, vaguely registering the people around her. The assistant district attorney was kept busy by her job, placing the many criminals of Gotham behind bars. With the corruption running rampant through the police force most days her work felt futile but she pressed on, unwilling to rest when there was still work to do. "There he is," a woman's voice squealed from Rachel's right and the young woman turned only to freeze. There, pressing free of the gawking crowd surrounding him, was someone she'd thought she'd never see again.

Bruce Wayne had been her childhood best friend before the tragic and untimely deaths of Martha and Thomas Wayne but as they'd grown they'd drifted apart. Bruce had become rebellious and resentful, often more interested in partying or sleeping with his latest conquest than learning about the company that would soon be his or spending time with an old friend. Then there had been the Joe Chill case. Chill had been assassinated outside the courthouse and Bruce, feeling betrayed by the law, had admitted to Rachel that he'd been planning to murder Chill. She'd been furious at him, yelling at him and trying to show him what true corruption looked like in the form of Carmine Falcone. When he'd vanished later a little voice in the back of her head had always insisted that it was her fault. Now the dark brown haired woman could only stare at the man walking by.

Bruce was alive? He'd been declared dead a year ago but she'd long before given up hope of ever seeing him emerge as anything other than a corpse. In fact, after leaving him staring at Falcone with dark eyes, she had expected his body to one day wash up in the harbor. "I wonder if he's taken," Rachel heard another woman murmur as Bruce made his way around a corner towards one of the smaller courtrooms. He was probably here to be legally declared alive again. For a moment, Rachel considered slipping into the courtroom to join the audience that would be there to witness the event. Then her phone buzzed, her boss's number crossing the screen. All thoughts of seeing Bruce again forgotten, Rachel lifted the phone to her ear and quickly resumed walking towards the front door.

* * *

When Alfred entered Bruce's study he found young Richard surrounded by handwritten notes. The boy had several windows open on the old laptop before him and was trawling through newspaper articles while he absently chewed on the end of the pencil. Bruce had left roughly three hours ago to have himself declared legally alive and then to check on the status of Wayne Enterprises. Doubtless Mr. Earle would not be exactly pleased about the latter. The man had put plans into motion which required Bruce Wayne's death and they were all about to be overthrown. For a moment the butler simply watched the young boy work, remembering when Bruce was that age. Bruce at ten had been silent and angry at the world which had betrayed him. The man had done a good job making sure Richard was not the same way.

"Do you require anything Master Richard?" the butler asked and the boy turned slightly startled blue eyes Alfred's way.

"No thank you sir," came the shy response.

"Please let me know if you need anything," Alfred told the boy, a gentle smile on his face as he turned to leave the room.

"Can-Can you..." The boy trailed off and Alfred turned back to face him, waiting patiently for Richard to finish his request. "Call me Dick," the boy said softly. "Please."

"Of course Master Dick," Alfred replied, turning and leaving the room. His heart felt lighter than it had in years. Behind him, Dick typed on.

Wayne Manor was as silent as it had in the years before Bruce's return but to Alfred it did not feel so empty. The knowledge that there was someone else in the large building lightened his step, along with sending him into a cleaning fervor. Much of the manor had remained closed up during Bruce's absence and, at the time, Alfred had simply covered up the furniture and let the dust pile up. The part of him that assessed everything in a calm and logical manner had suspected that sooner or later Bruce's body would show up and the manor would be sold to new owners. When that time came, he had planned on moving to somewhere in Europe and letting a new staff take care of the maintenance and cleaning of the house.

The front door opened distantly and Alfred made his way into the entrance hall as Bruce closed the door behind him. "Did everything go well Master Bruce?" he questioned and the man smiled at him.

"Mr. Earle was none too pleased with my return, although he hid it well. I'll have to keep an eye on him when I go to work tomorrow morning." The man removed his coat and Alfred took it before Bruce could even begin to look around for a coat rack.

"Master Dick is in the study at the moment," the butler informed his charge. "I'm sure he would appreciate you coming to check on him." Bruce nodded at the other man, already heading for the hall, only to hesitate and turn back.

"Alfred is there some way we can access the caves under the house?"

"I shall check the blueprints," the butler replied, not allowing his brow to furrow until after the man was out of his sight. The only time he remembered Bruce having anything to do with the caverns that ran underneath Wayne Manor was when the young boy had accidentally fallen into one. That had been during a time when Thomas and Martha were still alive to soothe the boy when he woke from nightmares of bats coming to get him. Shortly after that incident they had died and it had been only Alfred left to calm the stricken boy. That Bruce would be asking about the caves now was strange but the man had been away from Gotham for seven years and that time had undoubtedly changed him. Bruce Wayne was no longer the young man Alfred had once known. The man wasn't quite sure it mattered.

* * *

Dick glanced up with an eager grin the instant Bruce entered the room. Research was scattered about him in a chaotic jumble but the man had no doubt that the boy knew exactly where each piece of needed information was. "I didn't find Falcone precisely," Dick told his guardian. "But I did find something. Large shipments of illegal drugs, most recently cocaine, have been getting into Gotham somehow. The arrival of the drugs normally happens a day or two after shipments arrive at the docks from companies police and the FBI have guessed Falcone works with but none of them have ever been able to nab him. The most recent shipment arrived last night just an hour before we did."

"Falcone probably already unloaded the drugs," Bruce said, considering the situation. "That will make them difficult to track."

"Maybe not." Dick had a wide grin on his face, the one Bruce had privately labeled as _'I'm clever and I know it'_ in his repertoire of the boy's expressions. "Falcone owns a couple of warehouses. Not directly but the ownership can be traced back to him. It's possible that the drugs will be awaiting distribution there."

"And the other supplies?" Dick frowned at that, looking irritated.

"I could only find some of what you wanted and anything we order is going to draw suspicion. I'm not good enough with computers to keep someone on the outside from tracing the shipments."

"I'll take care of that," Bruce reassured the boy, already planning his next steps. "Good job." Dick beamed at him before clicking a couple keys on the keyboard.

"By the way, I thought you might want to see this." Bruce glanced at the computer and then frowned. A huge headline blared in all capitol letters, BRUCE WAYNE ALIVE. Underneath that was the name of the article's author, Vicki Vale.

"Has this printed yet?" Dick's grin turned mischievous then.

"Nope. Want me to eliminate it?" Bruce considered this, weighing the pros and cons of managing to remain anonymous for an extra day. Then he nodded. Dick's grin turned positively wicked, excitement making it difficult for him to stay in his chair. Bruce bit down a laugh as the boy spun around, fingers flying across the keyboard as he shot through the mainframe of Gotham's biggest local newspaper. Two minutes later any trace of Vicki Vale's exciting new story had been erased. Bruce let his grin show when the boy turned back to him.

"Nicely done. Has Alfred talked to you about getting you a bedroom?" Dick shook his head in response. "I'll go talk to him then."

Bruce had just turned to leave when Dick said, "I, uh, did find one other thing."

"What is it?" Bruce turned back to the boy who tapped his fingers nervously against the table for a moment before continuing.

"I did some looking," Dick said, squirming a little in his seat. "I was trying to figure out if anyone was doing what you're going to."

"And?" Bruce pressed, knowing that Dick would be willing to stop the conversation there if he wasn't pushed a little.

"I found this." Dick tilted the screen, this time revealing an article from a newspaper called the Daily Planet. The headline announced in large block type _SUPERMAN SAVES METROPOLIS_. Bruce leaned forward, scanning the article before his eyes fell on the author, one Lois Lane. Then he placed a hand on Dick's shoulder, squeezing gently to reassure the boy.

"We'll see what we can discover on Miss Lane and this Superman later," Bruce told him. "For now we'll deal with Carmine Falcone and the League." Dick nodded, expression blank as he stared absently at the wall. Bruce squeezed his shoulder once more and then left the room.


	3. Chapter 3

_"What I am about to tell you sounds crazy but you have to listen to me. Your very lives depend on it."- Lieutenant Colonel Bill Cage, Edge of Tomorrow_

* * *

Lucius Fox had worked for Wayne Enterprises since he graduated from college with a double major in Business Management and Technology Information. At the time, Thomas Wayne had been running the company and everything had been smooth sailing. Gotham had been in a golden age of elegant parties and, with a mostly bribe free police department the crime rate had been low. It had been Lucius who had introduced Thomas to a young Martha Hale, a college friend of his, at the Wayne family's annual Christmas party. Martha, like Thomas, had been three years his senior but she was a beautiful and vivacious young woman who easily captured every eye in the room. With her friendly personality, she was likely to know the names of almost everyone around her and her love for people never faltered. Their deaths had been tragic, as had the mysterious disappearance of their only child, Bruce. The boy had been smart as a whip when Lucius had first met him, looking at everything around him with an eager smile.

When Mr. Earle secretary, Janice Cline, walked Bruce Wayne down to the Applied Science's building at just after ten thirty in the morning, Lucius was surprised. He had been hearing whispers of the Wayne heir's return throughout Wayne Enterprises all morning but he had been cautious in hoping. After all, Vicki Vale who was notorious for snooping about the find the latest scoop, had yet to publish an article about Bruce's return. It was a shock to see the young man after so many years. Bruce had his father's strong build and dark hair but his eyes belonged to his mother. For a moment Lucius's eyes filled with tears. Then he brushed them away and stood, stepping forward to greet his visitors.

Janice smiled at him warmly, her dark brown hair pulled up in her usual bun. At twenty-four she was a little young to be a secretary to someone as important to Wayne Enterprises as Mr. Earle but she had earned her position through hard work. The young woman was smart and dedicated, with a mind for figures and finances. Thanks to her, Mr. Earle's schedule always ran smoothly. "Bruce Wayne has returned to the land of the living," she said with a wry twist of her lips.

"I see that," Lucius replied with a smile, reaching out a hand. Bruce shook it, handshake firm which was something Fox appreciated in a person, and then respectfully waited for Janice to finish.

"Mr. Wayne will be working with as per Mr. Earle's orders," Janice continued, rolling her dark green eyes.

"Then I'd best show him around, don't you think?" was Fox's reply.

"I think that would be best," Wayne agreed amicably.

"Have a nice day boys," Janice said, waving slightly as she clicked away on her high heels.

"I'm afraid Mr. Earle has sent you to a dead end department," Fox said as he led the way through stacks of boxed equipment that had been set aside as useless. "This is where he stashes everything that he has determined useless. For example, this." He motioned to an object covered with a large sheet. Wayne studied it for a moment before turning to Fox, arching his eyebrows.

"What is it?"

"This," Lucius said, yanking the sheet away to reveal the vehicle beneath. "Is the Tumbler. It was a military prototype meant to be able to jump over large vehicles, for example tanks, during war time but by the time we built the ramp, we lost the contract. Mr. Earle had it put away here." Bruce's eyes scanned the vehicle in a casual way. Then he nodded once. "Basically, Mr. Earle wants you out of the way until the company goes public and you can do nothing to thwart him."

"I gathered that," Wayne informed him, unbothered. Lucius studied the young man for a moment then nodded to himself. Whatever Bruce Wayne was planning, Fox knew that he didn't want to know the details.

* * *

The second morning in Gotham for Dick Grayson didn't go much better than the first. For one thing, he woke up panicking in a room that was still largely unfamiliar to him. He'd dreamed of his parents falling to their death again but this time he'd been falling with them. He'd woken up panting and shaking all over. He stumbled out of bed, intending to rush to the bathroom only to realize he didn't know where the bathroom was. He was sick in the nearest trashcan instead. Once he was finished, he'd stumbled back in bed and curled up there, shaking inside his cocoon of warmth until Bruce stuck his head into the room. "Are you okay?" the man had asked instantly and Dick had waved him off, insisting his guardian not be late for work.

"I'm just going to go back to sleep," he told Bruce, sinking down deeper under the covers as if to emphasize his point. Bruce had hesitated, considering the entire situation like he always did, and then nodded once.

"You or Alfred will call me at the office if something comes up, understand?" he demanded before he left.

"I understand," Dick had agreed and Bruce had left. The boy had remained in bed until his stomach had settled and he was no longer shaking. Then he'd grabbed a fresh change of clothing and gone in search of a bathroom. After a shower and what little he could stomach of breakfast he had begun wandering Wayne Manor and found himself hopelessly lost. He was standing in a deserted hallway with a thin layer of dust covering the carpet. Alfred's ongoing cleaning spree obviously hadn't reached this part of the building yet. They boy had searched for something that looked familiar only to realize he'd been wandering aimlessly and didn't even know what direction he'd come from. Realizing he was well and truly lost, Dick gave up trying to find his way and sat down on the carpet.

For a moment hopeless tears prickled in his eyes. Dick had thought he was beyond the point of crying for everything he'd lost but now, sitting in an corridor in a house far away from the circus he'd grown up in, the tears were impossible to push away. When his parents had been alive unfamiliar surroundings hadn't bothered the boy. Dick had grown up traveling all over Europe, and in certain wealthy cities in the United States, as part of Haley's Circus. As one of the world famous Flying Graysons, he had known his place in the world. It had made him confidant and eager to explore with his cousin, both of them knowing that as long as they stayed within the boundaries of the circus their parents would be able to find them. Then Dick had watched his entire family fall to their deaths and his confidence had fled. He'd grown more confident after a year in Bruce's care, slowly opening up to the man and, after a second year in Bruce's care the two had grown close. Dick trusted Bruce with his life but the man wasn't in the manor at the moment.

The first tears were just slipping down his cheeks when a startled voice asked, "Master Richard how did you end up here?" The boy startled a spun around to find Alfred looking at him, a duster hanging limply from one hand.

"I,uh, I got lost," Dick admitted, swiping a hand across his cheeks in a vain attempt to hide his tears.

"It is quite a big building," Alfred replied with a gentle smile. "Shall I show you the way back or do you simply wish me to point you in the correct direction?" An independent part of the boy wanted to insist that he simply needed pointed in the right direction but the rest of him was too exhausted by emotional turmoil to try.

"Could you show me?" he asked shyly.

"Of course Master Dick," Alfred replied, handing over a clean white handkerchief and then beckoning for the boy to follow him. Dick blew his nose and followed the butler down several halls and around corners until he was standing in front of his new bedroom. "Here we are Master Dick," Alfred said cheerfully. Dick smiled up at the man, relief washing through him at the more familiar surroundings.

"Thank you sir," he said, hand resting on the door knob.

"You're very welcome young sir," Alfred replied before turning and heading back the way they had come from. Only when the butler was out of sight did he turn the knob and enter the room.

* * *

When Bruce returned to the manor Alfred was waiting for him at the door. "Is something wrong?" the younger man asked, worried eyes meeting Alfred's calm ones. "Is Dick okay?"

"I believe so Master Bruce," the butler replied. "He ended up lost in the house earlier but I managed to get him pointed in the right direction."

"That's good," Bruce said, some of his worry fading. When he'd seen Dick that morning the boy hadn't looked well. He'd been reluctant to leave but the knowledge that he needed to be involved in Wayne Enterprises for his plan to work and Dick's reassurances had pushed him out the door. Neither one had stopped him from worrying about his son.

"I have the plans you requested," Alfred continued, motioning for Bruce to follow him. Sure enough, several large rolls of faded blue paper were settled on the kitchen table. "Before you begin I would advise you to check on Master Dick. He has not come out of his room since lunch and he was looking a little pale."

"Thank you Alfred," Bruce told the man who'd helped raise him and headed for the stairs. Dick looked up when the man opened the door, face pale and eyes haunted. Bruce recognized the look. Today had not been a good day. He knelt and opened his arms, not at all surprised when a small body slammed into his chest, clinging tightly and shivering. They stayed like that until Dick slowly relaxed and released Bruce's shirt. "Bad day?"

"Yeah," the boy replied, wiping away tears.

"I should have stayed."

" _No_ ," the boy replied sharply. "We need to get this done." He added in a softer tone, "I can't let the League do to others what they did to me." Bruce nodded in understanding.

"The orders have been placed in bulk so as to avoid suspicion," Bruce told Dick. "And Alfred has the maps of the caves below the manor. Feel like taking a look." The boy nodded slowly and didn't protest when Bruce picked him up, simply burying his head against the man's shoulder. The pair made their way down the stairs and into the kitchen where Alfred had laid out two steaming cups of tea and several scones. Bruce settled the boy down in a chair and then reached over to roll out one of the maps, careful not to disturb the tea cups. Then the two began to scan its surface, looking for ways in. Several miles away an airplane landed in the very airport Bruce and Dick had arrived at two days earlier and a man whose true age could not be determined just by looking at him stepped out into the smoggy Gotham air. The League of Shadows had arrived.


	4. Chapter 4

_"To hope is to risk pain. To try is to risk failure. But risk must be taken because the greatest hazard in my life is to risk nothing."-Bob Marley_

* * *

"There's an entrance here," Dick said, circling a section of the blueprints with an orange highlighter. "And one here from the outside too." Color was slowly beginning to slip back in his cheeks and the tremors that had been passing through his body earlier had faded away. "I think one over here too."

"And one here," Bruce added, gently taking the highlighter and circling the last spot. "Two on the outside and two that connect to the manor."

"Do you think it's safe down there?" the boy asked, blue eyes fixed on Bruce's blue-grey ones.

"I doubt you will be in any danger Master Dick," Alfred said from the doorway. "The caves from underneath the entirety of the manor so if they became unstable we would be the first people to know. Now if the pair of you do not mind taking a break from your important work, dinner is ready."

"I think we can break for that," Bruce said, smiling down at Dick. The boy nodded and helped him clear the table without prompting. The pair of them ate without talking and then Bruce considered the blueprints again. "Alfred are the entrances to the caves attached to the house accessible?"

Alfred stepped over and considered the blueprints for a moment before tapping one circle. "I believe this one is in the study. The door is behind the old grandfather clock your mother bought on their honeymoon."

"Thank you Alfred," Bruce said, beckoning for Dick to follow him.

"I would, of course, advise taking a light with you Master Bruce," Alfred called after them. "It will be quite dark beneath the manor."

"We will," Dick called before scrambling after Bruce. They were both gone before the butler let a fond smile cross his face. He had been observing them while they studied the blueprints of the manor, watching the careful attention Bruce gave Dick every time the boy spoke or faltered a little. It was obvious that Richard Grayson had experienced some form of trauma, though thus far Bruce had not spoken about the boy's past, and the man Alfred had helped raise was obviously concerned about the boy's mental welfare. Furthermore, the two were interesting to watch. Once Dick had regained color he had bent to the task with exceptional enthusiasm, seeming to pull a much more reserved Bruce along for the ride. They were good for each other, Alfred decided as he turned to tidy up the kitchen. He set to work scrubbing at the pans and, though he would deny it to the day he died, humming under his breath.

* * *

James Gordon, more commonly known as Jim, arrived at the precinct, already exhausted from the day. A couple years ago his life had been much easier. His loving wife, Barbara, had been home to take care of Babs and Jimmy. Then, after years of putting up with her husband's long work nights and the fact that he would often place the job over his marriage, Barbara had divorced him. She had taken a six year old Jimmy with her but Babs, who had been eleven at the time, had fought tooth and nail to stay with her father. Right now Jim's sister, Amelia, was inside the apartment watching a few cartoons with the thirteen year old girl but Jim had spent most the day with his daughter. That meant that he was running on too little sleep and too much coffee.

These days his life seemed to be constantly circling the drain. Gotham PD was full of bribe accepting men and women and, while he loved thirteen year old Barbara dearly, his daughter exhausted him. Furthermore, Amelia was growing tired to helping. "I always come running the instant you need help but when I need help? Oh no, I have an important case to work," she had snapped at him in the doorway two nights ago.

"I'm sorry Amelia," he'd apologized but she'd just scowled and stalked by him into the apartment. Babs had yet to notice anything was wrong but Amelia had been positively frosty the last few days when she'd arrived to watch her niece.

"Are you okay Captain?" Lucy Hamel, the Gotham PD night secretary questioned. Lucy was a woman in her mid fifties with steel gray bands running through what had once been auburn hair and her no nonsense hazel eyes had sent more than one seasoned police officer running for cover. Right now though her expression was worried, almost motherly.

"Fine," Jim told her, shoving down a yawn. "I just have a bit of a headache." Lucy studied him for a moment, frowning slightly, and then sighed.

"You should take a few days off Jim. The world isn't going to fall apart just because you get enough sleep and spend some more time with your daughter." Jim nodded, unconvinced, and Lucy shook her head. "There's Tylenol and fresh coffee in the break room," she told him, waving him away as she reached for the phone. Jim nodded his thanks and headed there, knowing that tonight was going to be another long night.

* * *

The caves beneath the manor were huge. Bats fluttered their wings restlessly at the intrusion and then relaxed when neither Bruce nor Dick aimed their flashlights upwards. Dick stumbled a little on the uneven floor and grabbed Bruce's shirt, clinging tightly to steady himself. The man rested a hand against the boy's back, helping him regain his balance. Then together the two of them crossed the floor, the surface beneath their feet evening out as they went. Across the wide cavern a huge waterfall poured into the cave, providing a constant soundtrack to their explorations. "This is perfect," the boy breathed, eyes wide as he glanced upward, straining to see the ceiling in the dark. If he closed his eyes he was reminded of the big top at Haley's. The waterfall became the roaring of the crowd, the bats rustling became the sound of performers waiting in the backstage area, and for a moment his heartbeat thrummed with anticipation.

"It is," Bruce agreed and the moment was broken. Dick opened his eyes and allowed them to meet his guardian's without hesitation. "The perfect hiding spot." Dick felt a smile cover his face at the idea and spun slowly, trying to picture what it was going to be. It would take work but soon enough they would have a stronghold from which they could protect Gotham from the League of Shadows.

"Master Bruce?" Alfred called suddenly from the manor above. "Rachel Dawes has arrived at the manor and I am afraid she is insisting upon seeing you."

"Who?" Dick asked, his voice a nervous whisper. He was suddenly terrified that Rachel Dawes was some kind of social worker who had arrived to take him away.

"Easy," Bruce soothed, placing a gentle hand on Dick's shoulder. The boy realized he was trembling slightly and pulled in several steady breaths, trying to relax. "Rachel is a childhood friend. I suspect she simply wants to know whether Vicki Vale's retyped story is true."

"Okay," Dick said, the last of his tension fading away. "You probably don't want to keep her waiting then."

"No," Bruce agreed, an amused smile on his face. " _We_ probably don't."

* * *

Rachel Dawes found herself waiting in a sitting room, standing in front of a fireplace. When Alfred Pennyworth had first answered the door she'd felt like a small child coming to track down Bruce after school hours so they could run around the huge yard, imaginations running wild. It had taken a moment to reassure herself that she was a capable adult and simple at Wayne Manor to see whether or not the rumors were true. Alfred had ushered her in and left her to wait in this room. At first she'd sat on one of the comfortable green armchairs but curiosity had gotten the better of her and she'd found herself look at the pictures framed and placed over the fireplace. One was of a young Martha and Thomas Wayne at their wedding. The two absolutely radiated joy and, knowing their fate, Rachel had trouble looking at it. The second was of the Wayne family as a whole, a two year old Bruce beaming from his mother's arms, and a third showed them just days before the tragic incident that had cost Thomas and Martha their lives.

It was the picture after those that had caught Rachel's attention. Tucked among Bruce's high school photographs and a few from college was one of a young Bruce and Rachel. Their faces were smudged with dirt and they were grinning, unashamed, directly at the camera. That was the day the two of them had helped Alfred prepare the vegetable garden for winter, just two days before the death of Bruce's parents. It had been one of the best days of Rachel's life and was still one of her fondest childhood memories. She gently reached out and picked up the photograph, taking in the two beaming faces with a sad smile. Bruce had changed so much since then.

Footsteps approached and she placed the frame back down in what she suspected was the correct spot, thanks to Alfred's diligence there wasn't even a hint of dust to show here exactly where it had sat. She was shocked by Bruce's blue-grey eyes meeting her own hazel ones. "Hello Rachel," he said, voice still the same as she remembered it from the few times they'd talked during their high school years. That was when she noticed the boy behind her old friend. He was tiny, all small limbs and huge blue eyes that studied her almost nervously. His skin was olive colored, probably a natural coloration, and he didn't look entirely comfortable about being in the room. Rachel found herself smiling at him before she turned back to Bruce.

"Hello," she said. "I was going to stop earlier but my job kept me busy."

"Did you make it to DA then?" Bruce asked and Rachel was startled by the fact that he remembered. She'd brought up her dream once during their senior year in high school. It had been an awkward conversation because they both knew Bruce's future was already written for him in stone. He hadn't acted like it had bothered him but when he'd vanished into thin air she'd finally realized that there was a lot Bruce didn't talk about.

"No yet," she told him. "Assistant DA though."

"That's great." His eyes showed that he was genuinely happy for her and Rachel smiled. "Have you finally found Mr. Right then?" When they were children, Bruce and Rachel had insisted they'd one day get married. Their parents had always smiled fondly and now Rachel understood why. Their friendship was the kind that you could simply pick back up at any time you wanted but the spark that turned friends to lovers wasn't there. Rachel felt no real physical attraction to him.

"No." Rachel rolled her eyes at the thought of the last date she'd had. It had been an old high school flame who'd come back to Gotham but he'd been more interested in getting in her pants than learning more about her. "How about you? Have you found to perfect girl?"

"Not yet," Bruce replied and Rachel was startled when she heard a little snicker. When she glanced down the kid was grinning up at Bruce, blue eyes twinkling.

"Judging by that laugh I'd say you have a couple great stories," she told the boy, grinning. He startled a little, pressing closer to Bruce who reached down and put a gentle hand on the back of the boy's head.

The boy studied her shyly for a moment, then said, "He sort of has an obsessed ex-girlfriend."

"Creepy obsessed?" The boy shrugged and then lifted a hand, tilting it back and forth. Rache's grin widened and the boy smiled back before glancing down at the floor.

"Enough about my poor choice in women," Bruce said, grinning slightly. "How've you been?"

"Busy," Rachel told him. "I've been working a lot, especially since Mom and Dad moved out of the city. They're still puttering around out in my grandparent's place in the country and the last time I visited they were collecting cats." Bruce laughed a little and Rachel grinned. Then she sobered a little. "Gotham's become a much darker place in the last few days Bruce. You're going to need to be careful."

"I will," he promised her. Then, as if a sudden thought had struck him, he added, "Can you stay for dinner?"

"Not tonight. I have a case I'm behind on at the moment." She pulled out her phone and brought up her calendar with a single swift movement. "I'm free Saturday though. We could catch up then."

"That would be wonderful," Bruce told her and the little boy at his side smiled shyly at her.

"I'll look forward to it," Rachel told him as he walked her to the door. "I'll see both of you then." Bruce hugged her gently and the small boy waved at her once before the door closed. It was only when she reached her car that she realized she didn't know the boy's name.


	5. Chapter 5

_"I know what I have to do but going back will mean facing my past. I've been running from it for so long."-Simba, The Lion King_

* * *

Exhausted by the events of the day, Dick Grayson slept well for the first time since coming to Gotham. Bruce Wayne, in contrast, did not. The boy knew this only because he recognized the dull exhaustion burning in the back of his guardian's eyes as he sipped at his coffee the next morning. In about an hour Bruce would be expected to arrive at Wayne Enterprises so Dick had chosen to emerge from his room to receive his standing orders for the day. Unfortunately Bruce was not yet awake enough to provide those orders. The boy waited patiently through breakfast, not bothering to speak until his guardian had folded up the paper and set it aside. "What's the plan for today?"

"The shipments should start arriving this afternoon," Bruce told him. "What I need you to do is look for any signs of trouble from the League or Falcone. When I get back this afternoon we'll start setting up the Cave and make our game plan for dealing with Gotham." Dick nodded in agreement, mind already working on the best ways to accomplish his given tasks. Bruce grinned tiredly and ruffled his dark hair on the way out. Dick finished his cereal just as the door shut and then headed for the study. His feet swung back and forth as he sat in Bruce's chair waiting for the laptop to start up, fingers tapping restlessly on the arms of the chair. At last the welcome screen appeared and he brought up an internet browser, checking security and blocking browser history before beginning.

He started with Carmine Falcone. Since he already had found Falcone's shipments once and had suspicions about where those shipments were being stored before being distributed across the Narrows, he had a jumping point for his research. The first step was to hack into the Gotham PD mainframe without setting off any alarms. Once he'd done that, he searched for increased reports of drug deals and robberies, trying to determine what heists were druggies searching for a way to pay for their next fixed. He also hacked his way into the mainframes of several shady pawn shops that operated regularly within the Narrows, searching for any signs of stolen goods. He couldn't confirm what was going on one hundred percent but he was fairly certain that Falcone's first batch had been distributed. From there, he found himself working a lot of math to calculate when the next shipment would come in.

Falcone was nothing if not a shrewd businessman. His business might be drugs, pain, and blackmail but in some aspects it was affected by the same laws of business that legal companies were ruled by. In this case, it was supply and demand. Since he controlled the supply, it was simple for Falcone to drive up the price of his product by withholding it. By Dick's calculations, the next shipment would be do in five days, just in time for Rachel to show up for dinner. "Great timing," the boy muttered, scribbling down a note and moving on to their other problem; the League of Shadows.

This part would be more complicated. The League was aptly named and Dick wasn't quite sure how he was going to find them. To be honest, Bruce knew more about the League's inner workings than Dick did but getting the man to admit that, or even share the information, was difficult. The boy had experience doing just that but he'd decided to put a hold on pumping his guardian for information until he'd exhausted every other angle. He started with airport flight logs. The problem with that avenue, he quickly discovered, was that there were plenty of rich and famous in and out of Gotham with their private jets. Researching them and trying to determine whether or not they were actually on board the planes flying to and from where the logs said they had been was going to take time. Worse yet, Gotham had two working airports and either one could have hosted the arrival of the League.

"Master Dick," Alfred's voice announced behind him. "If I could draw you away from whatever you are working on, lunch is ready." Dick flashed a tired, pinched smile at the man and slid out of the chair, relieved to have an excuse to take a break. His whole body felt like one large ache from sitting in one place for too long and one foot had fallen asleep. Lunch turned out to be a homemade chicken noodle soup and fresh baked bread that the boy devoured before clearing his own dishes and then returning to work.

His mind cleared from the hour long break, he scribbled a list of every person with a private plane who had gone anywhere close to Nanda Parbat in the past month from both airports and began researching them. Slowly he began to be able to cross names off the list, eliminating people who could not possibly be involved with the League. Some hadn't been anywhere near the League's home base lately or been in contact with anyone who had been around there. Others had too much focus on them. Dick was disgusted to realize that some people's vacations were held in so much scrutiny that privacy was an illusion. Even in the circus under the spotlight, the Graysons had experience more privacy than some of the rich and famous. Others didn't even remotely fit the League's profile. Their views were too rash, too unpopular, and far too public for them to even be considered. The League preferred subtle, elegant tools, though on occasion the boy knew they would use less desirable ones to get the job done. After three hours, he had a more reasonable list of twenty-three names. Hopefully Bruce would be able to help him shorten the list further when he returned to the manor.

The next step became to search incident reports for anything that was just a little bit outside the ordinary. That quickly became problematic but Gotham criminals were known for doing the unusual. Dick found himself stuck trawling through unusual episodes, from someone stealing a car in a bear suit to three men holding up a convenience store for twenty-four dollars in five cents, every single criminal dressed as Disney princesses, wigs and all. His head began to pound and he found himself burying his head in his arms, letting out an exasperated sigh. "Having problems?" Bruce's voice was amused and Dick lifted his head to give the man a slightly irritated scowl.

"Is anyone in this town sane?" he questioned, motioning toward the report he'd stopped at. A woman two nights ago had called in a burglary but when the police arrived her story was that she had been robbed by a giant fish.

Bruce scanned the report and then shrugged at the boy. "I don't know. It might be worth checking out." The man managed to hold on to his serious gaze long enough for Dick to punch him lightly in the side and heave out another exasperated sigh.

"There's just too many options," he said, slumping in the chair. "Falcone was easy. His shipment has already been passed out and the next one shouldn't be in til Saturday night but the League." He shrugged helplessly. "They could be anywhere."

"We'll find them," Bruce reassured him, squeezing his shoulder lightly.

"But what if we don't?" Dick questioned, turning worried blue eyes on his guardian. "What if we don't find them until it's too late?" He could feel tears building up, threatening to overflow at any moment, and his breath hitched a little.

"Do you trust me?"

"Huh?" Dick blinked tears away, confused. Bruce stared back, blue-grey eyes unfathomable as he waited for an answer. "Yes, you know that."

"Then trust me on this. We'll find them in time and stop whatever they're planning." Dick nodded, pulling in a deep breath and relaxing slightly. "Now Alfred tells me some of our supplies have arrived, courtesy of Wayne Enterprises. Why don't you take a break from this and help me take everything down to the Cave?" Dick nodded with an eager grin, scrambling out of the chair. Maybe in a couple hours everything would be clear. Until then, Dick would keep himself busy helping Bruce put their super secret lair together.

* * *

Katherine Kane was the red headed darling of high society. She was also extremely bored. Her family's wealth meant that since her childhood she had been paraded through a series of boarding schools, high society parties, and charity functions where the focus was people showing off their wealth instead of actually helping people. The whole situation disgusted and bored her in equal amounts so the first chance she had gotten, she had signed up to go on a church mission trip to Puerto Rico. It had been the best two weeks of her life. Kate had returned home feeling more alive than ever. She was thrilled by the idea of personally doing something to help people instead of simply throwing money at them. In the next year and a half, Kate had spent more time out of the country on mission trips than in her own home. That was why, two months ago, her parents had put a stop to it all.

"It isn't proper," her mother had insisted during the argument that followed.

"I don't care if it isn't proper," Kate had shot back. "I want to help people." That hadn't been the end of it. A week later her mother finally admitted to having lung cancer from all the smoking she'd done as a young woman and Kate had agreed to remain home for the time being. She wasn't happy about it and she was bored almost out of her mind again but she was staying.

After a long night at yet another pointless charity event she had slept in until afternoon. Now, just two hours before supper, she was still lounging about in her pajamas. It wasn't laziness that kept her from getting dressed and being productive, rather it was a small rebellion. Kate had protested having to go to the last three charity events, insisting that she'd done better work on mission trips and that most the money would simply go to advertising, but her parents had insisted. This was her way of acting out in protest. Kate settled on her freshly made bed with a sigh and unfolded the newspaper one of the maids had brought in an hour ago, pretty green eyes widening when she saw the headline. _BRUCE WAYNE RETURNS TO GOTHAM_ it insisted in all capitol letters. Kate read three paragraphs of Vicki Vale gushing and speculating and writing about rumors before she ripped the sheet of paper off the front, crumpled it up, and tossed it aside.

Kate hadn't know Bruce very well. They hadn't exactly been friends when they had been younger, despite the fact that their parents were in the same social circles. Her friend Amy had dated him for a week and a half when they were all eighteen but that was the closest she'd ever been to the Wayne heir. The papers had announced him officially dead a while ago, she could recall quite when or whether she had even been in the country when it happened. She wondered if his wondering had changed him. She also wondered whether she could visit Wayne Enterprises as a representative from Kane Incorporated. She would speak to her mother about it at dinner, she decided before she settled back, sinking into a pile of pillows and closing her eyes.


	6. Chapter 6

_"Life is like topography Hobbes. There are summits of happiness and success, flat stretches of boring routine, and valleys of frustration and failure."- Calvin from the Calvin and Hobbes comics by Bill Waterson_

* * *

When it was all said and done, Dick was less than impressed with his guardian's idea of nighttime vigilante garb. The boy understood the black but a _bat_? " _Really?_ " he questioned, turning his skeptical gaze on Bruce. "You want to be known as crazy nighttime vigilante who dressed as a giant bat?"

"There are worse things to be known as," Bruce replied, smirking.

"Oh really?" Dick arched an eyebrow at the man, not believing him for a minute.

"Oh course. I could be the old lady who thought she was robbed by a fish."

"You know what?" Dick said after a moment of serious consideration, his nose wrinkling a little. "You are not as funny as you think you are." Bruce just grinned at him. Dick ignored the man for the moment and circled the outfit set up on a plastic dummy, studying it like someone would a dangerous weapon. He tugged at the cape and then frowned at the feeling of the material under his fingers. "What exactly is this made of?"

"It's a Kevlar and Nomex weave," Bruce replied. "Bullet proof and fire proof, for the most part." Dick nodded and then glanced up towards the top of the suit.

"And the cowl?"

"Not quite up to my standards," was the answer. "Alfred smashed one with a gulf club during our testing." Dick snickered at the mental image that presented and Bruce grinned. "There's a new shipment coming in a couple days."

"Does that mean that Batman is going to make his debut tonight?"

" _Batman?_ "

"You're going out dressed like a giant bat. What else do you want me to call you?"

"That's a terrible name."

"Deal with it old man," Dick teased and then darted away, laughing, when Bruce lunged playfully at him. The two scuffled for a moment, which resulted in Dick being trapped in a loose headlock and trying to squirm away while Bruce tickled his sides. "Okay, okay," he panted out, laughing. "I give!" After the nightmares he'd had the night before it felt good to laugh. "I want to go out with you," the boy said once he'd caught his breath.

"No," was the immediate response. Dick's blue eyes narrowed.

" _What_ did you just say?"

"I said no, Richard," Bruce replied, voice sharp. "It's too dangerous."

"And you going out by yourself isn't?" the boy retorted. "I've been trained for this Bruce. I'm even better than you in some ways. You can't leave me behind."

"It's for your own safety," Bruce tried but Dick wasn't buying it. The two had trained together for a year before Gotham and Dick was perfectly capable of defending himself. Whatever reason the man had for keeping Dick out of this quest was not danger.

"Please Bruce," Dick tried. "Don't shut me out of this."

"I'm not," Bruce said, voice gentle. "You're better with technology than I've ever been. I need you here."

" _No._ " Dick felt tears building up but he fought them down, turning away from Bruce.

" _Fine_ ," Bruce growled. Dick stiffened, tried to remind himself that Bruce thought he was doing the right thing, and left the caves.

* * *

Kate's mother had not thought that it was appropriate for her daughter to just show up at Wayne Enterprises unexpectedly. That was why she found herself standing in front of Wayne Manor as the sun set behind her, sending a halo of gold about her red hair. Alfred Pennyworth answered the door promptly after her knock, appearing a little startled to see her standing there. "Miss Kane," he said. "Please, come in."

"Thank you Mr. Pennyworth," Kate said and stepped into the warm home. She followed the man into an elegant sitting room, her eyes falling on several photographs set on the mantle above the fireplace.

"I shall fetch Master Bruce for you," Alfred told her. Kate turned to thank him and was startled to discover that he was already gone. She stared at the empty doorway, startled, before turning back to peruse the photographs. There were several of a young Bruce Wayne with his parents in various places and one of a young Bruce and a smiling girl that looked an awful lot like assistant DA Rachel Dawes. Kate sighed and clicked on her heels past the photographs to a bookshelf, perusing the titles. There was Leo Tolstoy's _War and Peace_ , a much loved copy of _Crime and Punishment_ , two different Bibles, and even a thin paperback version of _The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy_.

"Katherine Kane?" Bruce Wayne's voice startled her and she whirled around on her heel to face him. He was taller and broader in the shoulders than she remembered him with muscles everywhere. "You're just as beautiful as I remember."

"You flatter me," Kate said, leaning forward to hug him. "It's nice to see you alive again." Bruce smiled, made a noncommittal noise, and hugged her gently for about ten seconds before pulling away.

"How are you Kate?" The woman noticed that he hadn't mentioned that she hadn't really wanted to see him seven years ago when he was still in Gotham the first time around.

"I'm doing well," she replied. "And yourself?"

"Enjoying the lack of media attention," he told her with a wry smile but made no move to continue the conversation. Kate suddenly got the feeling that she had chosen a terrible time to drop by.

"I'm sorry for not calling ahead," she apologized. "This was kind of a spur of the moment decision and it kept me away from another of mother's dull parties."

"I'm glad to be of service," Bruce said with a blank, empty smile. Kate resisted the urge to squirm uncomfortably under his intense blue-grey gaze. Bruce wasn't at all like she remembered him and she found herself completely unprepared for the change. Her brain was scrambling for an explanation or his cold behavior and struggling to figure out how she was supposed to interact with him. A sudden idea struck her and she brightened at the idea of seeing someone as uncomfortable as she was at her mother's parties.

"I'd love to catch up sometime," she told her, putting on her best high society smile. "Why don't you come to my mother's next charity gala tomorrow night at nine?" Bruce looked flustered for a moment before he hid the emotion away and Kate felt a flash of triumph.

Then Bruce's smooth smile was back in place as he said, "Of course, provided I can bring a guest."

Kate arched an questioning eyebrow but politely said, "Naturally. The Kanes will look forward to seeing you."

"And I will look forward to catching up with you," Bruce told her with equal politeness, walking her to the door. It was only when the wood door shut behind her that she allowed tense muscles that had coiled tightly in her back during her conversation with Bruce. She let out a relieved breath and clicked her way to the waiting car, already wondering if she'd made the correct decision when inviting Bruce Wayne to a Kane family gala. Especially since he appeared to be the new and improved Bruce Wayne.

* * *

"The supplies are running low boss," was how Petey announced his presence in Carmine Falcone's office. Petey's cousin, April, followed him in, a frown marring her perpetually worried face.

"The supplies will last until Thursday at their current rate of distribution," she told their boss. "And the next shipment comes on Saturday."

"Perfect," Falcone said, fixing his gaze on his two underlings. "You see my friends, it's all about supply demand. You control the supply, you control the demand." Petey let out a pleased little laugh.

"Yes sir," April agreed, her worried expression never quite leaving.

"Do you have anything else to report?" the crime boss demanded and got two negative replies. "Dismissed then." He waited until April and Petey were gone before lounging back in his chair with a sigh of satisfaction. Soon enough all of the Narrows would bow at his feet and then, all of Gotham. And the Wayne family was no longer in a position to stand in his way.


	7. Chapter 7

_"Keep away from people who try to belittle your ambitions. Small people always do that, but the really great make you feel that you, too, can be great."-Mark Twain_

* * *

Bruce's night was not going as well as he had planned. First there had been an argument with Dick which he'd handled terribly, and then there was Kate. He and Katherine Kane, despite the fact that they were cousins, had never really been close. Before he had left Gotham and come back a different person, he and Kate had been two opposing forces. Even if they had been in the same room, they had always been on opposite sides. Their parents had attempted to push them together more than one time but they had always refused to go along with those efforts, spurning each others company. Her invitation had come as a complete shock to him and, in his bemusement, he had agreed to go. His plan was to drag Dick along for the event, because sooner or later the boy was going to have to face high society sooner or later, but considering their argument it might not be the best plan.

The only remaining Wayne carefully dressed in the new vigilante uniform, pleased that everything fit properly. Tonight was supposed to be his, and he refused to call himself Batman despite how clever Dick had been about the whole thing, test run and he was determined to go through with it. He would talk to Dick in the morning when they both were completely calm and more reasonable. Cape swishing around his ankles, he slipped into the driver's seat of the "borrowed" tumbler and pulled out of the series of caves through the exit that was hidden behind the waterfall. He emerged into the night of Gotham, a dark shadow flashing by quicker than a human eye could truly comprehend. He was nothing more than a fearsome flash of black in the corner of a mobster's eye.

Bruce made his way to the Narrows, mind only partially focused on what was before him. The rest of it was focused on the determination he had seen in Dick's eyes. The boy wouldn't rest until he could join Bruce and help save the city. That had not been part of the plan. Bruce had never intended to allow the boy out in the field but he had the feeling that if he continued to say no, Dick would go out on his own. This was a fight he was going to have to lose. He parked the tumbler in a back alley and stepped out into the cool night air, almost hoping for some sign of trouble. He needed something to distract him tonight.

* * *

"We've got a call in," one of the Gotham dispatchers announced over the radio. "A convenience store robbery." The address given was only two streets away and Jim Gordon radioed back, informing the dispatcher that he and his partner would handle it. That earned him an irritated look but his long time partner started up the sirens and sped them in the correct direction. Jim ignored his irritation. Detective Arnold Flass had been with the Gotham PD longer than Jim had and was crookeder than a twisting mountain highway. Gordon tolerated the other man with the same attitude of a martyr about to be burned at the stake. The two got out of the vehicle in time to see what appeared to be a giant bat swooping down from the sky.

For a moment they both stared, stunned, as the bat calmly took down the three men who had been robbing a run down convenience store, one of the few still tucked away in the narrows. "What, in the name of God, is that?" Flass asked, mouth gaping open in a position perfect for catching flies. Jim Gordon responded in the only way he could; he shrugged. Neither one of them reached for their guns as the last thug dropped to the ground, either unconscious or dead. They were too stunned by what they were seeing. The... _thing_ seemed to look directly at them for a moment before vanishing into the shadows. Flass and Gordon lunged forwards, hands on their service pieces, but there was no one left to apprehend. The giant creature was gone.

After a moment of carefully surveying his surroundings, Gordon knelt next to one of the downed men and felt for a pulse. He was slightly shocked when he felt the smooth, steady thrum that meant the man was still in the land of the living under his fingertips. Anyone who had just seen a giant bat practically fall from the sky was not expecting to find the bat's victims alive. Flass was still staring in the direction the bat had gone, a dumbfounded look on his face. "So," Gordon said, standing and brushing grime off the knees of his pants. "What exactly are we going to put an APB out on?"

Flass turned wide, shocked eyes to Gordon and replied, "I've got no idea man. No idea." That, Gordon reflected, was probably the first thing his partner had ever said that he could agree with. This was going to be an interesting report to write up. Gordon could only hope that the newspapers didn't managed to see this particular incident report. He hoped it vain.

* * *

"It seems that you attracted some attention last night." Alfred, Bruce decided as he took the newspaper the man offered him, had the remarkable gift of being able to sound disapproving without actually verbally stating his disapproval. He had used it often during the Wayne heir's childhood and it seemed that, despite the changes to Bruce's personality, he would continue to use it. The man glanced down at the page Alfred had indicated and almost choked on his coffee at the headline. _Giant Bat Stops Robbery_ by Caroline Marcusson was on page two and, although it was a small article, it definitely got the point across. Dick, who was sitting across the table from him munching on cereal, made a noncommittal sound. The boy was not speaking to Bruce, probably still upset about the previous night's argument. Bruce wasn't sure he wanted to open that can of worms with only an hour left before he needed to leave for work.

"Apparently so," Bruce agreed with the butler just to have something that filled the empty silence that seemed to be filling the room.

"Will you be going out again tonight?" was the neutral reply he received.

"Not tonight. Kate invited me to one of their charity galas and I promised her I would attend."

"Very good sir," Alfred said, sounding not much more approving than he had about Bruce's nighttime activities. The only surviving Wayne just couldn't win with the butler today.

As Alfred left, Bruce turned to Dick. "I was hoping you would attend with me."

That was enough of a shock for the boy to drop the silent treatment and asked, " _What_?"

Bruce tried to hide his laugh under a cough and replied, "Sooner or later you are going to have to enter the ranks of Gotham High Society and the Kane family gala will be an invitation only event so you shouldn't really be swarmed by the media."

Dick studied Bruce intently, blue eyes narrowed as if trying to understand Bruce's angle. "All right," the boy said. "I'll go."

"Thank you," Bruce told him and the boy let out an exasperated huff. He was obviously still irritated at the man but was thawing slightly. "About last night-" Dick scowled, the expression almost qualifying as adorable on his childish face. Bruce fought down his smile and said, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have been so harsh with you."

"Does that mean you've changed your mind?" the boy questioned hopefully.

"On one condition," Bruce replied. "Out in the field you follow my orders without questioning them. Am I clear?"

"Crystal clear," Dick agreed immediately.

"Good." Bruce allowed his smile free reign. "That means we have some shopping to do." His grin widened at the boy's irritated groan.

* * *

When Bruce Wayne had asked permission to bring a guest to the gala with him, Kate had expected a woman. While she knew Bruce had changed from his time away from Gotham, she hadn't believed that he'd changed quite that much. She had just been proven wrong. Bruce Wayne walked into the latest Kane Family Charity Gala with a young boy at his side. The two looked enough alike to be genetically related and Kate found herself wondering whether Bruce had a son. The boy looked to be about the right age to be Bruce's child. Beside Kate, her friend Amy and Charity stopped mid sentence. The two had been chatting about what Laura Coleman had been wearing earlier in the week but now they were staring at Bruce.

"Did _you_ know Bruce Wayne had a kid?" Charity asked Amy as if the fact that she had dated Bruce before his disappearance meant she should know everything about his life.

"No idea," Amy replied. "But Kate went to visit him yesterday."

"Don't look at me," Kate protested. "We barely even talked."

"Katherine Kane, stop gossiping and greet Mr. Wayne," her mother chided and Kate shot her friends an exasperated and apologetic look before crossing the room towards Bruce. On the way she snatched a flute of champagne from a passing waiter.

"Bruce," she purred with a smooth smile. "So nice to see you again."

"Kate," he greeted her, kissing her hand when she held it out to him. "You look wonderful."

"Why thank you," Kate replied before turning to the boy. "And who is this?"

"This is my son, Richard Grayson," Bruce said, placing a gentle hand on the back of the boy's head. "Richard, this is Kate Kane."

"Pleased to meet you Miss Kane," he said with a shy smile and Kate found herself genuinely smiling back.

"The pleasure is mine," she told the child. "I'm sorry to inform you that most of the people are at least twice your age if not more but since this benefit is for the Gotham Police Department Captain James Gordon and his daughter Barbara are here. I believe she is close to your age. Would you like to meet her?" The boy glanced uncertainly at Bruce before nodding at her. Kate smiled and beckoned to both of them, weaving her way through the crowd. She stopped in front of a tired man with brown hair and a neat mustache standing next to his slender red headed daughter. "Jim, Have you had the pleasure of being introduced yet?" she asked the man who shook his head, smiling at her tiredly. Jim Gordon had the reputation of being one of the few good cops in Gotham and Kate liked him immensely. "Well Captain, this is Bruce Wayne. Bruce, Jim here is one of the best officers on the force and this little gem is his daughter Barbara."

"It's a pleasure to meet you both," Bruce said, shaking Jim's hand, but all eyes were fixed firmly on the two children who were studying each other intently. Barbara was the first to make a move, boldly stepping forward and thrusting out her hand.

"Hi," she said cheerfully. "I'm Barbara but you can call me Babs." Richard Grayson eyed here warily for a long moment and then reached out to shake her slim hand once before quickly pulling away. The little girl beamed, obviously pleased by the way this was going. "What's your name?" she inquired and the boy glanced up at Bruce again before answering.

"Richard Grayson."

"Pleased to make your acquaintance Richard," Barbara said primly before giving him a wide smile. "Want to go see the stars?" The boy nodded hesitantly and Babara grabbed his hand, tugging him away through the crowd. The three watched them go, Jim wearing a fond smile on his face. Kate smiled too, knowing that at least two people would be happy during this ridiculous show of wealth.

"Bruce Wayne, how lovely to see you?" a voice cooed and Kate's eyebrows arched towards her hairline as an older woman swept into their silent group, pulling Bruce away. The Wayne turned a rueful smile over his shoulder and Kate sighed as she watched him suddenly become the center of attention. Rich Gothamites would be gossiping about this event for weeks now. It was going to be _torture_. Next to her, Jim awkward straightened his tie. He looked as if he would have liked to fade away into the wall behind him.

"Would you like to get a drink?" the man asked at last, offering her his arm. "It's rather warm in here."

"It is, isn't it?" Kate agreed, taking Jim's arm and allowing him to lead her through the crowd. At least now she could talk to someone reasonable until her mother swept by to demand she mingle with the masses. _Again_.


	8. Chapter 8

_"You're in the right place at the right time, and you care enough to do what needs to be done. Sometimes that's enough."-from The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern_

* * *

The next morning Bruce had made the papers again but this time it was the front page headline and for a completely different reason than the day before. _BRUCE WAYNE'S SECRET LOVER?_ The headline blared and the author was none other than Vicki Vale. Bruce took one look at it and almost choked on his coffee. "How did that woman even find out about Dick attending?" he asked the world at large as the boy stole the newspaper, snickering as he began to read. "She wasn't even invited to the Kane's gala."

"Ooh, listen to this Bruce," Dick mocked cheerfully and began to read. "After a mysterious seven year disappearance, Bruce Wayne has returned to Gotham a father. Arriving with him at last night's fundraiser for the local police department, thrown by the ever generous Kane family, was a young boy whose looks are reminiscent of the Wayne heir's when he was still a child." Bruce snatched the paper from the boy who promptly broke out in peals of amused laughter as Alfred brought in a glass of juice.

"What do you think of this Alfred?" the man demanded, waving the paper at the butler. Alfred placed down the orange juice in front of Dick who took a sip and made a face at the sour taste behind the butler's back. Then the older man took the paper and scanned it. Bruce swore just then that he could see amusement in Alfred's eyes.

"I believe sir that this is the price one pays to return to the land of the living," was Alfred's reply before he turned and left them to their breakfast.

"I think it's wonderfully funny," Dick said, still snickering as he stole the paper back and began reading the article silently, fishing cereal out of his bowl with his fingers.

"Master Dick, please endeavor to use a spoon," Alfred said, returning to top off Bruce's coffee cup before the man had to leave for work. "Eating utensils are given to us for a reason." Dick wrinkled his nose at Alfred retreating back and obviously considered sticking out his tongue before turning back to his cereal. Bruce noticed that he did use the spoon this time and hid his chuckle behind his hand before finishing the coffee and standing.

"I'll see you this afternoon," he told the boy who smiled and waved vaguely at him still completely absorbed in the paper. Bruce left the manor grinning for the first time since his return to Gotham.

* * *

Rachel Dawes was counting down the days to Saturday. It had been a long time since she'd eaten Alfred's excellent cooking and although she was a capable cook herself, her job often kept her too busy to do more than grab takeout. It had been about a month since she'd had a home cooked meal. She only had two more nights of takeout, this one and the next, which had her humming cheerfully under her breath as she packed up the files she needed to finish up at home. It was a quarter til midnight and, aside from the night watchmen, she was the last one left in the DA's office. It had been an extremely long day preparing one case for court on Monday and going to a consultation for another one during her lunch hour. She was running on coffee and a candy bar one of the temps had brought her at two in the afternoon.

The assistant DA pulled on her coat and gloves before snatching her bag and clicking to the door. "Have a nice evening Miss Dawes," one of the watchmen called to her.

"You too," she called back before walking out the door into the chilly Gotham night. A cold wind brushed her shoulder length brown hair, whipping it around her face. She clicked briskly down the sidewalk unsurprised when she saw no cabs. At this time of night even traffic in downtown Gotham had slowed to little more than a trickle. The streets were quiet as she headed for her apartment, fully intended to slip into her pajamas and settle down with a warm cup of cocoa while she warmed up the leftover Chinese from two nights ago. That was when she heard the cry for help.

"Somebody, _please_ ," a woman's voice called. Rachel instantly headed towards the sound, pulling her phone out of the pocket of her jacket. The very least she could do was call 911 and possibly save a life. At best, maybe the canister of pepper spray on her key chain would be put to good use.

She rounded the corner to see a woman in a ragged coat cower away from three men. Rachel quickly uncapped the pepper spray canister with one hand, unlocking her phone and dialing 911 with the other. The DA's office wasn't far from the Narrows so terrible things happened in these streets with alarming regularity but the police office was nearby as well. "Nine-one-one, what is your emergency?" a crisp voice answered on the first ring.

"I'm at the corner of Cherry and Walton Boulevard," Rachel said quickly. "There's an attempted assault going on."

" _Hey! Lady!_ " one of the men yelled, whirling around to so her an acne marred face. "Get off the phone!"

"There's a squad car on the way," the dispatcher informed Rachel. "Please stay on the phone."

"Okay," Rachel agreed as another of the men approached her. Then she lifted the canister and sprayed its contents on his face. He yowled and scrambled away but the second one tackled her, knocking the canister and the phone out of her hands. Rachel let out a startled yell as he lifted a fist to strike her only to have him snatched away. What looked like a giant black shadow with bat ears threw the man hard into a wall. Rachel winced at the thump and scrambled for her phone as the figure took care of the second man. The third one that she'd pepper sprayed was flailing wildly as she lifted the phone to her ear.

"Ma'am? _Ma'am_!" the alarmed voice on the other end exclaimed.

"I'm okay, I'm okay," Rachel babbled, startled to see the last man lying still on the ground and her savior missing. "One of them attacked me but there was this shadow that sort of looked like a giant bat who saved me."

"A giant bat?" the dispatcher asked, startled.

" _Rachel!_ " a familiar voice called. Jim Gordon rushed forward and Rachel scrambled to her feet, shaking. "Rachel are you okay?"

"Yes, yes. I'm fine," she told him, still babbling as his partner made his way around her to check on the man. "There was this giant bat that just swooped out of nowhere to save me."

"Okay," Jim reassured her, gently rubbing her shoulders. "Everything's okay now." He paused for a moment and then added, "Did you say a giant bat?"

"Yes," Rachel told him, slowly beginning to calm down. Jim and his partner exchanged a meaningful glance.

"Rachel," Jim asked her, "Do you mind coming to the police station to give a statement?"

* * *

Dick was waiting impatiently in the cave when Bruce returned from another night on patrol. The boy had agreed, reluctantly, that he couldn't go on patrol until his own uniform was ready. The proper materials had been ordered and were expected to arrive the next day, just in time for a test run before busting Carmine Falcone. The only problem with their plan that they had yet to iron out was the dinner with Rachel. The assistant DA had called the afternoon before to ask if seven was okay and, with the upcoming case scheduled to go to court, Bruce doubted she would stay past nine. They simply had to hope that Falcone liked to collect his shipments very late at night.

"How'd it go?" the boy asked the instant Bruce was out of the tumbler, scrambling off the work table to rush over.

"Good." Bruce pulled the cowl off, frowning at the cracks in it. This version truly wasn't anything close to what he wanted and it frustrated him to no end.

"The new ones are supposed to come Saturday morning," Dick announced cheerfully. "I checked. In the meantime, I'm using some of the spares for target practice." Bruce snorted at that and the boy beamed at him. "Think you'll be in the news again?"

"I was trying to avoid it but I don't think it worked," came the rueful reply. "Rachel interrupted an attempted assault and since she's the assistant DA I'd imagine it will make the morning papers." Dick snickered and Bruce reached over to ruffle the boy's hair with a soft smile.

"Have you told anyone you're Batman yet?"

"I told you, Batman is a terrible name." Dick snickered, blue eyes alight with mischief. The boy wasn't going to let go of that name any time soon and Bruce supposed it was probably his fault for protesting it so vehemently when Dick had first brought it up. He was also beginning to realize that when he brought the boy out on patrol he was probably going to become stuck with the name. "Besides," the billionaire added, pulling off his gloves. "I haven't exactly talked to anyone yet."

"Of course," Dick replied, rolling his eyes. "Because you're an antisocial idiot running around beating up bad guys. Why do I even bother?"

"Because you're stuck with me," Bruce replied, earning himself a grin and a little snicker. "Now head upstairs and get some rest before Alfred decides to kill us both with one of those golf clubs he's been using to test my equipment."

"I would never Master Bruce," Alfred announced as he stepped out of the lift carrying a steaming mug of what Bruce suspected was tea. "It would be much too messy." Dick grinned widely at that as he passed the butler.

"Night Bruce, Alfred," the boy called before taking the lift upwards towards the manor.

"Good night Master Dick," Alfred called back.

"Sleep well," Bruce added and got a wave in reply before the boy was out of sight. Alfred placed down the mug and tutted over Bruce's new collection of bruises and scrapes, grappling from building to building was harder than he had initially thought and he didn't have Dick's natural grace in the air, while the man stripped out of the last of the Batman uniform before dressing in civilian clothing.

"You're doing well with him," the butler said as Bruce took a sip of what was indeed tea, with a little bit of lemon squeezed in.

"Even with agreeing to allow him to run around Gotham's streets at night with me?" Bruce questioned, a wry twist overtaking his face.

"I am not a fool, Master Bruce," was Alfred's reply. "Even I can see that Master Dick would go out with or without your permission. You are simply being sure that he does so in the safest way possible." The butler headed for the lift, adding, "Do yourself a favor and take your own advice. Get some rest so you are ready to keep up with him tomorrow."


	9. Chapter 9

_"A characteristic of a normal child is that he doesn't act that way very often." -Author Unknown_

* * *

Richard Grayson was bored. The kind of bored that normally involved stressed parents saying that their kids were bouncing off the walls. It was lucky for them that their children weren't actually former acrobats that were fully capable of doing just that. The truth was, since he had arrived at Gotham the boy had done little more than research for Bruce and wait to be allowed to patrol. The one bit of excitement he'd actually gotten was meeting Barbara Gordon during the gala two nights previously. The pair had quickly become fast friends and Dick had decided that parties wouldn't be so bad if it meant he got to be around someone like her. Babs was clever, quick tempered, and opinionated, almost the complete opposite of shy and wary Dick. Her lively attitude had quickly pulled him in and she had found herself equally intrigued by the shy boy who watched her every move with wide blue eyes. Their friendship was helped by the fact that she was passionate about gymnastics and the two of the had ended the night with flips and cartwheels in the Kane family garden away from prying eyes. Now, alone in the manor, Dick was restless.

He found himself wandering the halls again, slowly beginning to orient himself in the massive house. The last time he had wandered he'd been stressed by nightmares he was struggling to escape but now, alert and well rested, he found it easy to navigate. There were dozens of empty rooms in the hallways surrounding his bedroom alone and Dick found himself wondering exactly how many more closed up rooms there were. He also wondered if there was a time when they had all ever been full.

Growing up in Haley's Circus, Dick had never understood loneliness. He had been surrounded at all times by people, most of whom didn't mind have a small boy underfoot asking all kinds of questions, so finding himself alone after his parents' deaths had been a shock. Bruce had managed to get the adoption papers through in three days but Dick had spent those days as a small shadow in a grimy orphanage full of older children who called him names. Then there had been the constant influx of police officers who came in first to interview him and then to tell him that his parents' killer, Anthony Zucco, was nowhere to be found. It was only months after being adopted, when he was slowly beginning to talk to about his nightmares to Bruce, that the man had told him the League of Shadows had helped Zucco escape. Dick still didn't understand the League's hatred of his parents but he hated them back often with everything in him.

The emptiness of Wayne Manor was strange to him and as he wondered the halls he found himself feeling like a ghost. With Bruce at home at least there was someone else to talk to but Alfred was not much for chatter so the boy had been spending his days alone. Then he discovered the roof. It was by pure accident that he found the ladder to the oldest part of the attic in the manor and from there promptly discovered that from a window he could crawl out onto the wide roof. It was one of the few moments of sunshine that Gotham ever experienced, even in the summer, and the boy found himself basking in the sunlight. He didn't realize that Alfred had been searching for him until Bruce returned home.

"I wondered if you'd found your way here." Bruce managed to squeeze his way through the open window to join the boy. "You had Alfred worried sick."

"Oh," Dick said softly, staring at the clouds that were now obscuring his precious sunlight. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Bruce reassured him. "Next time just make sure to tell Alfred where you're going." Dick nodded in agreement but didn't move. For a while, basking in the sunlight, he had been able to close his eyes and pretend that he was lying on top of one of the parked train cars while the circus was being set up around him. Now, staring up at the sooty clouds, something in his chest ached.

"I miss them," he said at last, knowing that with Bruce he didn't have to specify who.

"I know," was the reply and Bruce slipped an arm around the boy. Dick snuggled close and closed his eyes again, the ache loosening. They remained on the roof until the man said, "We'd best head down before Alfred starts to worry about us. Besides, the needed supplies have arrived." Dick brightened instantly at the news.

"Really?"

"Really," Bruce confirmed. Dick sprang to his feet, sliding eel like through the open window and grinning at Bruce's laughter.

* * *

Detective Arnold Flass nervously stepped into what could conceivably be considered Carmine Falcone's office. The mob boss didn't run an officially business but he met with people he had planted in certain offices in what had once been the office of an abandoned warehouse. The man in question was lounging in a chair with a newspaper in hand, looking anything but pleased. "Explain this," Falcone demanded, dropping the paper on his desk so Flass could see the headline. _MASKED VIGILANTE RESCUES ASSISTANT DA_.

"Nobody knows anything," Flass said, fingers twisting in the bottom of his shirt before he forcefully stilled them. "This guy just appeared out of nowhere dressed as a giant bat."

"Is this going to be a problem for our business," Falcone demanded, eyes dark.

"No boss," was Flass's reply. "He's just going after muggers and little criminals. He won't bother us."

"He'd better not," Falcone growled. Flass knew a dismissal when he heard one and gratefully scrambled out of the office. Smiling Petey, who was standing outside the office, cackled at Flass's badly hidden terror. Flass scowled at the halfwit and stalked out of the warehouse. He was still fuming when he reported to the Gotham PD for his shift that night.

* * *

Dick was practically bouncing with excitement as Bruce handed what constituted as the boy's crime fighting uniform. His depression from earlier seemed to have faded away, overtaken by excitement. "Go on," Bruce said, shooing that boy away. "Get changed." Dick beamed at him and scrambled out of sight to change into uniform.

"The new cowl seems to be holding up well," Alfred announced from behind the man, handing over one of the second batch. That delivery had arrived a day early which gave Bruce a chance to test it before the big drug bust Saturday night.

"Good," Bruce replied, pleased, as it took the object. Dick came back into view then, beaming. The man's first thought was that the costume was far too bright for crime fighting. The one that followed immediately after was that at least he would be able to find the boy in the dark. The costume was a one piece deal of Nomex and Kevlar that was supposed to be flexible enough for the boy to pull his usual acrobatic stunts while fighting. The top half was red fading slowly into black against his legs. The underbelly of the black cape fastened at his throat was a vivid yellow and the shoulders of the uniform were a dark emerald green along with the gloves. Black boots and a utility belt finished off the whole ensemble.

"What do you think?" Dick questioned, holding out his arms so that Bruce could see the entire look.

"I think you look like a traffic light," the man replied with an amused grin. That commented earned him an irritated scowl, despite the fact that the boy knew he was joking. Bruce understood the real reason behind the coloring of the uniform; to honor the boy's deceased parents. The red, yellow, and green were a tribute to the Flying Graysons and, therefore, not Bruce's to truly protest. "So if I'm going to be Batman then who are you?" The man asked, tucked the cowl under one arm and turning to a table to find the mask to protect the boy's identity.

"Robin," came the prompt reply. Bruce froze for a moment, struck by the enormity of the moment. Robin had been Mary Grayson's nickname for her beloved son and Dick giving Bruce permission to use it, even if only for an alternate identity, was huge. Abandoning the search for the elusive mask for the moment, Bruce turned and pulled the boy into a hug. Dick clung to him tightly, sniffling a little.

"Your parents would be very proud of you," Bruce told the boy who smiled shyly up at him.

"You think so?"

"Yes, I do." He waited until the boy pulled away before turning back to look for the mask.

"Are you searching for this, Master Bruce?" Alfred questioned, holding out the missing object.

"What would I do without you Alfred?" the man asked the butler, taking the object from him.

"I'm certain I don't know sir," was the butler's reply. Bruce's lips twitched as he handed the mask over to Dick, the boy studying it intently.

"Keep that on at all times," Bruce ordered and the boy nodded, pulling it on and adjusting the strap so it rested comfortably on the back of his head. You could still see the color of Dick's eyes which meant the mask wasn't quite up to Bruce's standards yet but it would do for now. "Ready to go?"

"Yes," Dick cheered softly and Bruce, grinned, pulling the improved cowl over his head.

"Come on then," the mans said, motioning for the boy to follow him. "And remember, follow my orders or you're done."

"I remember," the boy replied with a wide grin, slipping quickly into the passenger seat of the tumbler.

"Come home safe, both of you," Alfred added sternly from his position by the lift that would take him back up to the manor.

"Yes sir," Bruce replied, throwing a salute at the older man before slipping back into the tumbler to join his son. The two of them had a warehouse to survey for tomorrow night's event and only a limited amount of time before the sun came up.


	10. Chapter 10

_"Hope lies in dreams, in imagination, and in the courage of those who dare to make dreams into reality."-Jonas Salk_

* * *

Despite the rumors of a giant bat breaking up crimes spreading quickly across the city, Gotham's streets late at night were the same mess they'd always been. Some days, Gordon despaired of ever having the streets safe enough for someone to walk along. Especially of days like today. Already he and Flass had broken up a convenience store robbery and an attempted mugging and the night was still young. Gordon was just glad that tonight they were assigned away from the docks so Flass would actually assist with breaking up the crimes. Jim knew that his partner was in Carmine Falcone's pocket, in fact it was common knowledge, but he also knew there was nothing he could do but tolerate it. Gotham PD was so corrupt that any official he talked to would simply ignore him.

"Sqaud Car 94 we have a break-in in progress at 453 West Elm Street," a voice announced over their radio.

"Copy that. We're on our way," Gordon replied as Flass peeled out of the parking spot, heading for the address. A worried feeling twisted in Gordon's stomach. Break-in's were always the worse. Often times when the police arrived an attempted break-in turned into a murder or a hostage situation. Neither one were good options.

When they arrived at the scene, Flass slammed on the brakes hard enough to make Gordon's seat belt go taut. The two scrambled out of the vehicle, drew their service pieces, and cautiously made their way through the already broken down front door of the apartment building. The dispatcher hadn't told them what floor the attempted break-in was going on in but the thumping just above their heads told them all they needed to know. The pair exchanged a meaningful glance and then Gordon led the way up the stairs.

Propped up against the door was the desk clerk with a bullet hole in his head, blood in shimmery slug trails down his pale face. Gordon cautiously moved the body aside and the pair stepped through the doorway, service pieces held ready to fire at a moment's notice. They expected to see a watchman in the hallway, someone to alert the would be thieves of their arrival. The man in question was there but he was slumped against the doorway, unconscious. Gordon and Flass exchanged worried looks before cautiously entering the apartment.

The first thing they saw was a flash of something large and black. Flass got off one shot before his gun was knocked to the ground but Gordon was too close to even try shooting the thing. Then the black receded and Jim was able to make out The pointed ears of the bat hood the mysterious vigilante had been wearing. To his left was a boy dressed in traffic light colors lowering the last of the attempted robbers to the ground. The boy glanced up when the man was lying on the ground and then grinned brightly when he spotted the two policemen gaping at him and his companion. "Hi," the boy chirped, waving enthusiastically at them. Gordon was too stunned by the sight before him to get a word out. The man dressed as a bat was not.

" _Robin_." The low warning had the boy's mouth snapping shut before the next words could even escape but did nothing to dim the radiant smile. The man made a motion and his companion waved one more time before leaping out the broken window. The man followed a moment after, silent as a shadow. Flass rushed to the window and peered out before swearing. Gordon guessed that the two figures were gone so instead of joining his partner in staring stupidly out the window he began to cuff the downed men.

"What are we gonna do about that?" Flass demanded, pacing nervously in front of the window. Gordon shrugged. "I mean they can't just do things like that. It's against the law."

"And you would know all about that," Gordon replied pointedly. "Come help me get these guys to the car. We'll write up our reports and let the higher ups decide what to do." Flass scowled at him but obligingly helped heft the men up. As Gordon half dragged the man down the stairs to the squad car parked below he reflected that this was not how he had expected the evening to go.

* * *

"So did I pass?" Dick was practically bouncing in the seat of the tumbler as they headed back towards one of the entrances to the caves underneath the manor. Bruce had warned him that tonight was a trial run. If the boy didn't follow directions he would be back to hacking only. Dick had pointed out, as the tumbler had initially entered the Narrows.

"Yes," Bruce said, turning a slim smile towards the boy. "You passed. Despite trying to chat with policemen."

" _Yay!_ " Dick cheered before the rest of the sentence sunk. "Hey! You know your problem?"

"What?" Bruce asked obligingly as the waterfall thundered over the top of the vehicle as they rumbled into the cave.

"Being around you is like having a walking statue as a companion."

"You're the chatty one, not me."

"You're missing the point," was Dick's reply as the vehicle rumbled to a stop. "You need to lighten up a little."

"But then we'd be out of balance."

"What?"

"We'd be out of balance," Bruce replied patiently, turning to open the door so the boy wouldn't see his smirk. "I'm the silent, solemn one and you're the bright, cheerful one. If I become more sociable it would throw off the whole structure of the universe."

" _Bruce!_ " Dick whined, scrambling out of the vehicle after his guardian. "That isn't funny." Bruce just grinned at him.

"Did tonight go well?" Alfred inquired, stepping out of the lift.

"Two muggings interrupted, one break-in halted, and scouting out completed," Dick crowed, doing a series of cartwheels across the stone floor.

"Very good Master Dick," was the butler's reply. "Now I suggest you change and go upstairs to bed. I will be waking you up by lunch time."

"Okay," Dick agreed, skipping off into the shadows. Bruce watched the boy go for a moment with a bemused smile on his face before pushing the cowl off his face.

"Will you be coming up as well Master Bruce?" Alfred inquired.

"Yes, I believe I will," Bruce replied as Dick skipped back into view, this time dressed in civillian clothing.

"Very good Master Bruce," was the reply. "If you will come with me Master Dick, we will return upstairs so you can get some well deserved rest."

Dick nodded and then leaned forward to hug Bruce tightly for a moment. "Night Bruce."

"Goodnight Dick," the man replied, ruffling the ten year old's hair. The boy wrinkled his nose and lifted a hand up to straighten his hair as he followed Alfred to the lift. Bruce watched them go before leaning against a table with a tired sigh. Even though the pair had only been patrolling for three hours, about half of Bruce's time the previous nights, the man was exhausted. He had spent the majority of his time worrying about the boy in his care, despite knowing that Dick was capable. He had trained the boy himself after six months of taking him in, the two slowly bonding through the process, but he still worried. Battles could sometimes come down to a matter of strength rather than skill and the boy was only ten years old. Therefore it fell to Bruce to ensure that the boy returned to the caves each night safe and sound. It was a heavy burden to bear.

* * *

Metropolis was a bustling city near the coast of Delaware. It was as different from the small farm town in Kansas that Clark Kent had grown up in as it might be possible to get without becoming extremely dangerous. The bustling city sometimes made hims miss the peace of what he had once believed was his birthplace. Now it was simply the only home he had. Kent shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts of Krypton and the life he had never had, and turned back to his current article for the Daily Planet. It was a piece about inventor and businessman Lex Luthor's newest goal, which would be another problem for Kent's alter ego, Superman.

Luthor was the genius businessman that he appeared to be but he was also much more than that. The businessman was driven by a single goal;domination. Lex Luthor wanted to rule the world and only Superman stood between him and his goal. It was a very humbling thought but it was the least of his problems. Beautiful crack reporter Lois Lane was becoming more of a danger to Superman's secret identity than Luthor. The woman was very taken with Metropolis's hero but she was also curious by nature. That curiosity meant she was constantly prying, struggling to discover who the Man of Steel really was. It was problematic. Little did he know that in two days, Lois Lane would be the least of his worries.


	11. Chapter 11

_"Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong."-Murphy's Law_

* * *

Rachel Dawes clicked up the stairs in front of the entrance to Wayne Manor at a quarter til seven, her hair pulled up in a high ponytail. She rapped on the door and Alfred ushered her in saying, "Good evening Miss Rachel."

"Thank you," Alfred she replied, carefully stripping off her coat and handing it over to the butler. Alfred smiled at her as Bruce walked into the room, dressed casually in a pair of blue jeans and a button up white shirt. Rachel was instantly glad she had decided to simply wear her work clothes to dinner. If she had dressed up, like she had initially considered, she would have felt ridiculous.

"Rachel, you look lovely," he told her with a genuine smile.

"Why thank you," she replied. "You don't look too shabby yourself." The boy from before, who was lurking in the doorway, rolled his eyes at that and Rachel grinned at him. "I don't think the two of us were properly introduced last time. My name is Rachel Dawes."

"Richard Grayson," the boy replied, shuffling his feet and sliding a little closer to Bruce.

"It's nice to meet you Richard," she told him, smiling widening slightly. She didn't know how Bruce had encountered the sweet boy but she was glad the man was taking care of him. "I hope we can be friends." Richard smiled shyly at her and Bruce's smile widened at bit at that. He then ushered her into the dining room. Rachel's eyes scanned the familiar long table, remembering restless evenings watching from the kitchen as she watched her friend sit through a late formal dinner before he could come watch movies with her. They were fond memories, the kind wrapped in a warm glow from childhood.

"Dinner should be ready in a couple minutes," Bruce reassured her.

"I'm sure," was Rachel's reply. "Alfred runs a tight ship."

"That he does." Bruce's laugh was light and warm, the kind of laugh that had faded after the deaths of his parents. The boy at his side smiled and Rachel began to realize that not only was Bruce good for the boy, Richard's presence was helping Bruce. It eased the last of the worry that had been lingering in her chest about the irresponsible Bruce Wayne taking care of a child.

"You want to know a secret?" Rachel asked, leaning around Bruce to grin conspiratorially at the boy. "There's a secret passage between the kitchen and this room, just behind that end table." She motioned one of the two tables with expensive vases on them resting on either side of an arched doorway. "I used to hide in there when Bruce was little and wait for him to be finished eating at formal dinners so we could go watch movies."

Richard grinned at her, eyes bright, and Bruce said, "I didn't know that."

"The bottom cabinet to the left of the sink has a false back," Rachel continued with a grin. "That's where the passage starts." The she turned and added to Bruce, "This is an old house. I'm sure there are lots of secret passages you don't know about."

"Most likely," Bruce agreed, pulling out her chair for her. Once she sat he settled on one of her sides and Richard tentatively slid into the seat on her other side. "So how has work been?" her old friend asked as Alfred brought out dinner.

Rachel inhaled the savory scents before saying, "Busy. Carl isn't getting any younger, you know." Carl Finch was the fifty-nine year old district attorney for Gotham City. In his younger days the man had been known as the bloodhound, never giving up until the criminal was in jail once he caught the man or woman's scent. Rachel had been working with Finch for close to two years now and as he started considering retirement she had taken on more and more of his responsibilities. "I enjoy the work though."

"That's good," Bruce told her and Rachel nodded, taking a bite. The dinner was pork chops and potatoes roasted in oil and rosemary. After weeks of takeout it tasted divine.

"Mmm," she hummed happily. "Alfred's cooking is even better than I remembered."

"It's one of the things I missed while I was away," Bruce told her. On Rachel's other side, Richard made a soft noise but the assistant DA wasn't sure what it was supposed to signal. Bruce made a face at the boy and then winced. Rachel hid her grin under her napkin, guessing that Richard had kicked the man.

"Oh really?" Rachel inquired and he nodded once, his more closed expression telling her that the particular avenue of conversation she was pursuing was closed for business. "So I heard you went to one of the Kane galas."

"I'm sure everyone heard," Bruce replied, looking a little irritated. "Vicki Vale hasn't changed much since high school, has she?" The pair of them had been two years younger than Vale during their school days and even then she had been notorious for spreading rumors and causing drama.

"Not a bit," Rachel replied, rolling her eyes before turning to the boy. "So what did you think of your first official high society event?" Richard made a face at her and she giggled. "I know, boring aren't they?" He shrugged and she arched her eyebrows. "Maybe not?" She caught a glimpse of Bruce's smile and turned to look at the man. "Was there actually someone his age there?"

"Captain Jim Gordon's daughter, Barbara I think it was."

"Oh," Rachel said with a grin, suddenly understanding. Barbara Gordon was an enthusiastic child and always eager to meet new friends. Doubtless she had pulled Richard off on some adventure while the adults were trapped chatting to each other. "I bet that was exciting." They ate in silence for a minute, just enjoying the food. Richard finished first and squirmed a little in his seat. Bruce arched his eyebrows at the boy who then sighed, sounding very put out.

"May I be excused?" the boy asked, the arch of his eyebrows asking if the man was happy yet.

"Yes you may," Bruce replied and Rachel hid another smile, this time behind her hand.

"It was nice to meet you Richard," she called after him as he scrambled away.

He paused by the door to say, "It was nice to meet you too." Then he vanished, leaving Rachel and Bruce behind to chat.

* * *

Dick made his way down the lift the cave almost the instant he was excused from the table. During the ride down he shifted from foot to foot, tired of sitting still for so long. Rachel Dawes was nice but all that _sitting_. Once he stepped out into the cave he did a series of flips and cartwheels before coming to a stop in front of the computer. He carefully shifted the mouse, waking it up, and began hacking his way into a series of security cameras around the area they had surveyed before, just for fun. As he waited for the views to load he hopped from one foot to the other impatiently. Then his eyes fixed on the movement on the cameras and he froze.

He and Bruce had suspected that Falcone wouldn't move the goods until midnight but the mob bosses's goons were at the docks now. If the pair didn't leave soon they would be completely out of luck. Dick turned on his heel and scrambled for the lift. It was only when he burst out into the study that he realized he didn't know how he was going to subtly let Bruce know what was going on. Then his mind fell on Alfred. Brightening some, he headed for the kitchen.

The butler was waiting inside it, staring out at the dark lawn, when Dick scrambled in. "Can I help you Master Dick?" the man asked.

"I hope so." The boy shuffled his feet anxiously, unable to stand still. "You know what Bruce and I were planning tonight?"

"Yes I do," Alfred replied, eyes fixed on the boy's fidgeting form.

"Well it's happening sooner than we expected."

"And you wish me to inform Master Bruce of this?" the butler inquired. He got an eager nod in reply. "Very well." The butler left the room and Dick fidgeted, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he waited for a response. Alfred returned a moment later, expression impassive. "Master Bruce said to inform you to meet him downstairs in five minutes. He is saying farewell to Miss Rachel before she leaves." Dick nodded in response and scrambled back towards the study. His goal was to be changed and ready to go when Bruce arrived.

* * *

The crew was halfway finished unloading the drugs while Falcone watched when things began to go wrong. The first yell the crime boss heard was dismissed as someone falling into the bay. It happened occasionally. Sometimes Petey even "helped" certain members of the crew fall in, ensuring that they would only show up months later. Therefore the first startled cry was easily dismissed. The second one was not. Falcone sat upright in his seat and demanded, "What's going on?"

Detective Arnold Flass, who was serving as Falcone's driver that night since his usual driver was indisposed, replied, "I dunno."

"Well find out," Falcone snarled. Flass nodded nervously and stepped out of the car, shutting the door behind him. Falcone watched, shoulders tense, as Flass vanished between two huge transportation cars. A moment later Flass rushed back into view, his face pale. The man scrambled into the car and locked the door behind him.

"It's the bat guy," the detective sputtered. "He's out there beating the crap out of the crew with some kid."

"I thought you said this guy wouldn't be a problem," Falcone snapped, voice icy.

"I didn't think he would be."

There was a long moment of silence as the mob boss considered his options. Then, "Give me your gun."

"What?"

"Your gun," Falcone demanded. "Hand it over." Flass silently did as he was told, face pale. "This hurts you more than it hurts me," the mob boss drawled and then shot Flass once in the head. As the former detective slumped over, Falcone unlocked the car and stepped outside into the chilly Gotham night. He took two steps away from the sleek black car and demanded, "Where are you? Show yourself." The only response he received was a child's snicker. At the same time Petey limped into view waving a gun in the air. Falcone watched with wide eyes as a black figure dropped down, knocked Petey down, and then vanished. In the sudden eerie silence, Falcone whirled on his heel and scrambled for his car. He didn't make it.

A boy in red, black, yellow, and green was standing between Falcone and the car, smirking slightly. "Who are you?" the mob boss demanded but the boy just smiled like he knew the secret to life.

From behind Falcone a gravelly voice growled, "I'm Batman."


	12. Chapter 12

_"Change does not roll on the wheels on inevitability, but comes through continuous struggle. And so we must straighten our backs and fight for our freedom."- Martin Luther King Jr._

* * *

Kate Kane unfolded the newspaper with one hand and lifted the cup of orange juice to her mouth with the other. Golden sunlight dripped through the wide dinning room windows to cover her in a warm glow as she savored the taste of the fresh juice, turning to read the headline. What she saw had her coughing and sputtering, surprise making her choke on the mouthful of juice. _FALCONE FALLS TO BAT_ , the headline bellowed, proclaiming victory to all those members of Gotham who did not support crime. Kate smoothed the newspaper and leaned forward to read the article.

_Long time mob boss Carmine Falcone was finally brought to his knees at nine thirty local time last night while attempting to smuggle cocaine into Gotham City. Falcone was bringing the illegal drug in through the docks, packed into stuffed animals, and then unloading his shipments after dark. Last night his nefarious business was interrupted by none other than the mysterious Bat Vigilante who took out Falcone's entire crew and left the mob boss himself tied up on the steps of the Gotham City Police Department, allegedly with a typed note explaining where to find the needed evidence to convict Falcone. Either District Attorney Carl Finch or Assistant District Attorney Rachel Dawes is expected to prosecute Falcone._

Kate leaned away from the paper with a wide grin on her face. Finally something was going right in Gotham. Maybe the man in question was working outside the law but sometimes that was what was necessary. Sometimes, in places like Gotham, people were forced to orchestrate the justice they needed to see carried out and if this vigilante was able to clean up the city then good for him. Better yet, he had taken down Falcone. That made the vigilante even better in the red head's eyes. People had been trying to take down Falcone for years and that this vigilante had managed to take down his entire operation single-handedly and hand it over to the police was nothing short of amazing.

"Good news?" Kate's mother questioned, rolling into the sun soaked dinning room. The cancer had spread quickly, weakening Margot Kane to the point where she was not steady enough to walk about.

"Gotham City's new savior has taken down Falcone," Kate replied, handing over the newspaper with a soft smile. "The DA's office has enough evidence to prosecute him."

"That is good news," Margot agreed, unfolded the newspaper with hands that trembled slightly. "Maybe now the police can clean up this city." When Kate was younger her mother had told her tales of what Margot called the Golden Era of Gotham City. If you looked back close to sixty years into the city's history you easily discovered the point when everything went wrong and people like Falcone took over. In the first twenty years of her mother's life, Gotham had begun to become the ruin that it was today. It was a tragic story but Kate found herself hoping, like her mother, that maybe now Gotham could become what it had once been.

* * *

"Hey Kent!" Lois Lane's voice was loud in the small upper office area of the Daily Planet where most of the writers typed up their stories. "Perry's got a job for you." Lois had just returned from an interview with one of Luthor's spokespersons, the inventor himself busy with his latest work, and her perfectly curled auburn hair was twisted up in a bun. "He said it was important," she added, sauntering by his desk and waving absently at new reporter Jimmy Olsen before settling in her own chair. Clark nodded absently and finished his last two sentences, submitting the article so it could be looked over later, and headed for Perry White's office.

The editor in chief of the Daily Planet was tucked away in a tiny office on the floor below the writer's area. It had probably been an abnormally large broom closet at one point but Perry White had taken over it and never shown any desire to move out. "Clark, come in," Perry called when the reporter hesitated at the open office door. "I have something I want to talk to you about."

"That's what Miss Lane said," Clark told the other man, sitting down in the rickety looking chair in front of Perry's desk.

"I have a job for you. Whisper from out of state say Bruce Wayne is actually alive and back in Gotham. I know you covered the story a couple years ago when they declared him dead so I'm asking you to head over to Gotham."

"What exactly do you want me to do Perry?" Clark asked.

"Find out if Wayne is really alive and if so, see if you can get an interview with him," Perry replied. "It'll be big news for the Planet." Clark mumbled out an agreement but the entire time Perry was chatting he was considering if Superman could afford several days of absence from Metropolis. And what chaos he would be greeted by in Gotham City.

* * *

Dick jolted upright, shivering all over. The image of his parents falling to their death was seared on the backs of his eyelids, tears sliding down his cheeks. The nightmares had visited every night but they had gradually decreased in frequency. The boy had hoped they would fade entirely, had even believed they were completely gone two months ago, but then they had come to Gotham. The nightmares had returned, showing up about once a week, and after the gory scene he had found the night before it was unsurprising that he had woken in such a panic.

After they had apprehended Falcone, Dick had discovered the dead body in the driver's seat of the car. The boy had only been able to stare in horror at the slumped over dead body until Bruce had steered him away, guiding him into the tumbler. The pair had dropped Falcone off at the police building and interrupted a mugging, which had improved Dick's temper, washing away the sorrow. Still the nightmares had returned. The boy pulled his blankets tighter around his slim frame, shuddered like he was suddenly freezing. A knock on the door startled him and he hunched in on himself, wide blue eyes fixed on the door.

"Dick, can I come in?" Bruce's voice had him relaxing almost instantly, muscles that had coiled tight with fear easing.

"Yeah," the boy called, voice thin and tired. Bruce opened the door, face concerned when he saw Dick.

"Nightmares again?" The boy nodded, lunging forward and wrapped his arms around the man's chest the instant Bruce settled down on the edge of the bed. Bruce settled a hand in the middle of the boy's back, allowing Dick to cling and sob softly. "It's okay," the man soothed and Dick nodded against his chest, sniffing a little.

"Did we make the news?" The boy didn't release his hold on Bruce but he did look up with wide, watering eyes. In truth, Dick was desperate to distract himself from the nightmare and their escapades the night before was the only subject he could think of.

"Front page," Bruce replied with a soft smile. "Of course you don't exist yet but the fact that a giant bat nabbed Falcone has captured everyone's attention." Dick snickered a little, leaning back and wiping his eyes.

"So Batman hasn't stuck yet?"

"Not everyone is as clever as you," was the man's reply. Dick smiled weakly at him and Bruce ruffled the boy's hair. "Why don't you showed and then come downstairs? Alfred is making an, admittedly very late, breakfast." The boy nodded in agreement and slid out of bed, Bruce casting him one last glance before vanishing down the hallway.


	13. Chapter 13

_"The only thing we have to fear is fear itself."- Franklin D. Roosevelt_

* * *

Doctor Jonathan Crane entered the police lockup, nodded at the pretty brunette secretary, and allowed the officer waiting at the door to let him in. Falcone looked up from his intense study of the table as the door clicked closed. "So are you gonna get me out of here?" the man demanded. "I have a business to run." The psychologist ignored Falcone's impatience, settling his briefcase on the table between them. " _Well?_ " the mob boss demanded.

"I'm afraid you've gotten yourself in deep trouble this time Mr. Falcone," Crane replied calmly, taking a seat. "The DA's office is out for your head on a silver platter. It won't be easy to get you out."

"What do I keep you on retainer for then?" Falcone demanded.

"Oh I can get you out of here," Crane continued as if the mob boss had not spoken. "It simply isn't going to be easy."

"I don't care," Carmine Falcone snarled. "I just want you to get me out of here!"

"Oh," Crane replied, voice soft and eyes sly. "I was hoping you would say that." Then the man flipped open the silver latches of the briefcase. From inside he removed a spray can and what looked like a piece of burlap sackcloth.

"What is _that_?" Falcone demanded, looking disgusted.

"These are simply tools of my trade," the psychiatrist answered placidly. "You see, I have found that fear is one of the most powerful weapons a man can wield. Especially one of my stature." Crane laughed a little, a weak and choked sound, and sprayed whatever was in the can in Falcone's face. The mob bosses sputtered, glaring at Crane who simply replied with a smile like spoiled milk. "Now tell me Mr. Falcone, how are you feeling?"

"What kind of stupid-" Falcone abruptly cut off and stared vacantly at Crane. The weedy academic's sickly smile widened further and he pulled the piece of burlap over his head. Falcone's eyes fixed on Crane's mask and a moment later his mouth gaped open. A horrendous sounding wail escaped Falcone, echoing off the cement walls. Satisfied with the result, Crane removed the mask and slipped the supplies away before standing and rapping on the door. The guard opened up the soundproof room and his eyes went wide.

" _Jesus_ , what happened in here?"

"My patient is mentally unstable," Crane replied, tone perfectly at peace. "I am going to request that he be transferred the Arkham." The guard nodded, dumbfounded, but Crane had already wandered away.

* * *

Barbara Gordon settled down at her desk, dropping her backpack next to her chair and then neatly arranging the supplies on the desktop. He loose red curls were pulled into a ponytail, her uniform neat, and her legs crossed at the ankles. Bette Kane, one of Barbara's friends, arrived moments later and settled into the desk next to her. Bette's blonde hair was loose and wavy, framing her heart shaped face, and her blue eyes gave an angelic impression to anyone who didn't know her. In truth, Bette had taken Taekwondo since she was six and had a slow simmering temper that eventually became a massive explosion. Bette was the niece of high society's Kate Kane but her father had married "below his station" and the few galas the blonde attended a year were ranted about for days afterwords.

"Have you seen the paper today?" the blonde asked, eyes sparkling. "Our local caped crusader handed Falcone over to the police on a golden platter."

Barbara nodded with a wide grin. "Dad was one of the officers that found him. He was going to report his partner missing."

"Isn't your dad's partner that slimy looking guy who always looks at us as if he's debating how much trouble he'd be in if he shot us?"

"Yeah," the red head replied, giggling a little. Neither girl knew that tucked away on the third page with all the other similar articles was a small obituary for one Detective Arnold Flass.

* * *

Rachel Dawes was absolutely furious. Her eyes blazed as she stormed out of the police station and into the downpour that local weathermen had told everyone would probably one be a sprinkle in the morning. It was now two in the afternoon and hadn't stopped raining. Rachel wasn't sure she cared. It suited her mood. She stormed through puddles in her low heels, ignoring the knowledge that the muddy water would probably stain her pantyhose, and made her way to the DA's office, the rain pinning her hair flat to her skin. She stormed through the front door, the day guard studying her with concern as she made her way to Carl Finch's office. "Have you heard what they did?" she snarled. "They've moved Falcone to Arkham Asylum."

Finch looked up from the file in front of him, took in Rachel's drenched state, and heaved out a weary sigh. "Please dry off dear," the older man told her, adjusting his glasses. "Then you can come back and tell me everything." Rachel wanted to protest but she recognized that look on her boss's face. Finch wasn't going to listen to anything she had to say until she did as she was told. Feeling like a chastised toddler, she resisted the urge to turn and stomp out of of the office. Instead she left as calmly as she could to dry off in the bathroom.

Ten minutes later, with the help of the warm air dryers, Rachel returned to Finch's office mildly dryer. She sat primly in the chair across the desk from her boss and waited, simmering with anger over her newly gained knowledge. Finch set aside the folder then and folded his hands. "Now then," he said. "What did you want to tell me?"

"Arkham psychologist went to visit Carmine Falcone at the station early this morning," Rachel told him, voice tight with tension. "Within five minutes, Crane left the room and Falcone was raving like a lunatic. A judge in Falcone's pocket has already moved the man to Arkham Asylum."

"And you believe that this is all an elaborate hoax," Finch said. It wasn't a question but Rachel found herself nodding anyway. Carl Finch had been able to make her feel like a teenage girl in school instead of a capable adult. "Then we will send our own psychiatrist to check over Falcone."

"Good," Rachel told him, feeling the knot of tension that had been building up in her chest relax some now that they had a game plan. Then a sudden thought hit her. "I want to go talk to Crane."

"It is only fair to tell him that we are sending someone into his domain," Finch agreed neutrally. Rachel stood, satisfied with the response. "Rachel," the man called after her as she was about to shut the door. "Just be careful."

"I always am." Rachel turned and clicked back out into the rain, waving down a cab. She was going to pay a visit to Arkham Asylum. It was time to figure out exactly what Jonathan Crane was up to.


	14. Chapter 14

_"Rashness is the faithful, but unhappy parent of misfortune."- R. Buckminster Fuller_

* * *

Dr. Jonathan Crane was waiting for her when Rachel stepped out of the cab and into the continued downpour. He opened the front door of Arkham Asylum for her and ushered her inside with a sickly smile. "It's so nice of you to show such concern about Mr. Falcone's welfare, Miss Dawes," Crane said, leading toward a lift with a thin white hand on her arm. "It's so unusual coming from people in this city." Rachel made a noncommittal noise as the lift door squealed shut behind them. "Mr. Falcone's sudden mental breakdown was an unfortunate event considering how much hope his conviction would give the people of the Narrows." The lift opened up with another squeal and Rachel's heels clicked on the grimy concrete floor. The couple guards nodded at them as they passed. Rachel skin crawled at the dinginess of her surroundings and the coolness of Crane's hand even through the sleeve of her shirt.

"Mr. Falcone is in here," Crane continued, motioning toward a solid looking door. Rachel could hear whimpers and wails from inside and when she peered through the peephole she saw Carmine Falcone strapped down to the bed. His convulsions and the wide whiteness of her eyes made her begin to suspect that Crane had been lying but she didn't want to give up quite yet.

"I'm so sorry to be an inconvenience," she lied through her teeth to Crane. "But to cover all our bases at the DA office we are going to have to send another psychologist to check over Mr. Falcone."

"Why of course," Crane agreed with his usual slippery smile. "But they won't tell you anything other than what I just did. Mr. Falcone had a sudden mental breakdown when he was caught by a man dressed as a bat." Rachel gave him a false smile in response as he guided her back toward the lift. "Allow me to walk you out."

"Of course," Rachel agreed, mind going over a list of possible psychologists to send to Arkham. She was so absorbed in her mental planning that she didn't notice they were going to wrong direction until the elevator ground to a halt. "Where are we? This isn't the lobby."

"I'm sorry for the confusion," Crane informed her, his grip tightening painfully on her arm. "But I have something to show you first before you leave." Then he pulled her out of the lift. Rachel's eyes took in the sight of people in gas masks, their face gaunt behind the clear plastic. Then she smelled something almost sour. Her eyes widened as Crane began to laugh and she tried to scramble to the lift. The crazy psychiatrist clung to her like a limpet, the extra weight keeping her from reaching escape and she collapsed on the floor, mouth opening on a terrified scream.

* * *

Bruce was settled comfortably in an armchair watching the news while Dick lay on the floor, searching the internet for any sign of the League of Shadows, when trouble knocked on their door. "Master Bruce, there is someone here to see you," Alfred announced from the doorway. Something in his tone was wrong and Bruce felt himself stiffen, hand tightening around the remote. It wasn't much of a weapon but in experienced hands that didn't matter. "He was quite insistent." The man rose and turned to look at the figure standing behind Alfred.

"Thank you Alfred," Bruce said, aware of Dick rising slowly beside him. "Why don't you call it an evening?"

"Thank you Master Bruce," Alfred replied, expression worried as he turned and left the room. Bruce then turned to face the piercing green eyes of Ra's al'Ghul.

"What are you doing here?" The billionaire's voice was ice cold and his body was a line of tension, ready to move at a moment's notice.

"I suspect you already know," came the reply. "Talia has a fondness for you that cannot be tempered and I have no doubt that her last mysterious absence involved telling you my plans."

"That," Bruce growled. "Was not what I meant. What are you doing in my home?"

"I am here to warn you," Ra's replied. "Unlike the faulty police department you have attempting to function here I know exactly who has been frightening local criminals. You cannot save your city. Gotham has already been doomed and nothing you attempt will save it from the Shadows. If you leave the city now I will allow you to live peacefully but if you remain I will eliminate you and all that you care about without mercy."

"You can't do this," Dick yelled, lunging forward with his hands clenched into fists and his blue eyes narrowed. "There are innocent people out there. You can't just _destroy them all_!" Bruce tried to grab the boy but Dick was faster and his fist struck hard in the middle of Ra's stomach. The ancient man took the punch without flinching and then grabbed Dick's arm, twisting it sharply behind the boy's back.

"I expect respect," the man snarled, Dick whimpering but not fighting for fear of having his arm broken, eyes wide. "And I will have it. I am taking the boy with me. If you vacate Gotham City within twenty-four hours of this meeting, the child will be returned to you unharmed. Should you fail to obey my order the child will be slowly and painfully killed." Then Ra's turned and dragged Dick out of the room as if that were the end of the conversation. Bruce hurried after him, fury driving each step.

"You are not taking my son," he hissed, reaching out to grab Ra's al'Ghul's shoulder. The man stopped, muscles tight and head turning back to look at Bruce.

"You will release me and allow me to take the child out," Ra's said, voice chilly. "Or I will break the child's arm." Bruce released Ra's and watched, trembling with fury, as the man walked away with his son.

* * *

By the time Clark Kent arrived in Gotham he felt worn thin. He stepped into the bustling airport, trying to ignore the sounds coming from outside. Perry, in all his infinite wisdom, had decided to fly Clark into the airport closest to the Narrows and with his advanced hearing, the reporter could hear the sounds of fear from outside. He gathered his luggage, blocking out everything he could and wishing it wasn't too convenient for Superman to make a sudden appearance in one of America's worst cities. He hailed a cab and directed the driver, a greasy looking man with a Hitler-esque mustache, to take him to the hotel Perry had booked him a room at. Judging by the neighborhood that flashed by in the dark window, most of the streetlights busted or flickering, it wouldn't be a nice room. Clark sighed, reached a hand up to rub his nose under the bridge of his glasses, and tried to settle in for the ride.


	15. Chapter 15

_"The art of losing isn't hard to master; / so many things seem filled with the intent / to be lost..."- from "One Art" by Elizabeth Bishop_

* * *

Clark dropped his bags in the middle of the bed, frowning at the puff of dust that rose up around him. When he had first arrived he had suspected Perry of being cheap but not this cheap. He sighed and sank into a moderately less dirty chair and glanced out the window at the smoggy Gotham night. He hated this city in a way. It was filled with suffering and darkness, as if all the evils in the world gathered on the grimy streets to twist what little light dared to linger. It swallowed up everyone, rich or poor, and twisted them into something other than what they would have been originally. Before he could be sucked further into the shadows surrounding him, Clark reached for the remote and turned on the television.

"...Missing Assistant District Attorney Rachel Dawes," a blonde reporter was saying. She was standing outside what looked like an office, wind whipping her hair about her face. "Dawes was last seen at the District Attorney's office seen behind me. Before then she had visited the police department to get an update on the status of Carmine Falcone. Falcone was taken down by the mysterious vigilante who has taken Gotham by storm in the past few days. Back to you Steve."

"Thank you Ellen," the man at the desk, Steve, was saying but Clark wasn't listening. Instead he was staring mutely at the screen. There was a vigilante in Gotham? Why hadn't he known? The reporter flew out of his chair and snatched up his laptop, slowing his motions so he didn't rip it in half when he opened it up. He floated in midair in the middle of his hotel room as he waited for the laptop to power up. Once the welcome screen lit up he settled on the bed, heedless of the dust, and began a search.

It took thirty minutes of careful searching before Clark was sure he knew everything the locals did about the Gotham City vigilante. He was also confused. After being raised by Martha and Thomas Kent, immersed in human culture, Clark thought he was good at understanding them. He did not, however, understand what would drive a grown man to dress up like a giant bat and beat up criminals. It was utterly mystifying.

"The expected weather for tomorrow is cloudy with a fifty percent chance of rain," a weather man on the television.

 _"Let me go!"_ a boy's voice cried, distant even with Clark's advanced hearing. Before he had even thought to move he was muted the television, straining to hear what was going on. _"Let go!"_

 _"Ouch! You little brat, I outta-"_ a male's voice snarled.

 _"Peace,"_ a new voice advised. _"I promised the man that his child would be returned unharmed should he choose to leave within the time limit allotted to him."_

 _"He's not going to leave,"_ the boy snapped. _"He's going to stop you!"_ There was the sound of a smack and a child's cry of pain that made righteous fury coil in Clark's gut. The man had silently promised himself that Superman would not appear in Gotham. He was about to break that vow. Superman soared into the night, leaving shattered glass spread across the floor of the empty hotel room.

* * *

Bruce was hunched in front of the computer, fingers flying. He wasn't as good at this as Dick was but he had to be good enough. He had to rescue his son. "Master Bruce, is there anything-"

"No Alfred." Bruce's tone was sharp as he cut off the loyal butler, muscles tight with tension. Ra's al'Ghul had presented him with what seemed like an impossible ultimatum. He could not bring himself to abandon Gotham in the city's time of need but he also could not allow Dick to be killed. The boy was not going to lose his life because of Bruce's crusade. "I'm sorry Alfred," the only surviving Wayne said after a moment. "I just, I cannot lose him too."

"I understand sir," Alfred said, placing a gentle hand on Bruce's shoulder for a moment. "Call me if you require anything."

"Thank you Alfred," Bruce called after the butler, not looking away from the computer. He had to find something. _Anything_. He typed on, ignoring the progression of hours. He would find Dick. _He had to_. That was when Alfred returned, his footsteps approaching swiftly.

"Master Bruce, I think there is something you should know." Something in the butler's tone made the man turn his chair around and face Alfred. "Miss Dawes is missing."

"Rachel? What happened?" Bruce demanded, feeling a tension induced headache building. Of course everything would go wrong _now_ when it was vital that nothing else did.

"According to the news Miss Dawes made her way to the Gotham Police Department in order to check the status of Mr. Falcone. New information insists that Mr. Falcone was moved to Arkham Asylum after a sudden mental breakdown," Alfred informed his former charge. "I suspect Miss Dawes paid a visit to the asylum in the Narrows from which she never returned." Bruce resisted the urge to swear as he pressed a hand to his forehead. Then a sudden thought struck him. What if Rachel's disappearance and the League of Shadows' mysterious plan were connected? He knew from his training that the League normally worked with organizations inside a city to bring about that city's downfall and with Falcone locked away, the League would have to find new tools. The criminals in Arkham could be those tools.

"Alfred, who is running Arkham right now?"

"I'm afraid I don't know sir." Bruce paused in his search for a moment to bring up another window, hoping to find anything that might help him. He could feel the clock ticking down and his heart pounded in his chest as he waited for the results. His eyes narrowed on the name Jonathan Crane and he brought up the police database Dick had hacked a few hours before his kidnapping, plugging the name in. _Nothing_. He bit down a curse, headache growing stronger. He was no closer to finding his son and Rachel was missing, possibly also in danger. The pressure on his shoulders was feeling overwhelming. He allowed his head to fall to the table, the feeling of failure settling heavy on his shoulders.

For a moment he considered taking Ra's's offer. The man was just honorable enough to keep his promise. Bruce could leave, and take Alfred out of the city with him, and Dick would be returned to him. He would hate himself for the rest of his miserable existence but Dick would be safe. Then his father's voice reached him, a thing he had thought had been erased by years of pain and fear and loss. _"Why do we fall Bruce?"_

"So we can learn to pick ourselves up," Bruce murmured and sat up. He wasn't going to quit now. He had work to do. "Alfred?" he called and the butler who was standing in the shadows waiting to see if the younger man needed anything else, calmly met his eyes. "Batman is going out tonight."

"Very good sir," was the butler's only reply.

* * *

Superman arrived in time to see a small boy lifting a hand to his check, blue eyes wide and scared and just a little bit furious. A man, nothing more than a common garden thug, and he looked startled at seeing a man literally fly through a wall. The other man, standing in an expensive suit, did not so much as blink. "To what do I owe this dubious pleasure?" the man in the suit questioned.

"Let the boy go," Superman demanded.

"I will not," the man replied. "The boy is leverage and as such he will remain with me."

"I'm afraid I cannot allow that," Superman said. That was when another thug on the side decided to let off a shot. The bullet bounced off his shoulder without doing a bit of damage and the thug gaped. Superman punched the man in the nose. The bones broke and blood spattered everywhere. It hadn't been a particularly nice move but it had gotten the job done. He knocked ripped the other man away from the boy and as he was tossing the second thug aside, the first one scrambled for the boy, who flipped over his head in a move that was practically art. The boy's body was hidden behind the man's so Clark didn't see exactly what he did but a moment later his attacker was toppling to the ground. The man in the suit and whatever cronies he'd had with him were long gone. Clark couldn't even hear their heartbeat.

Boy and alien stared at one another for a long moment, the boy's blue eyes radiating distrust. "I'm Superman," Clark said at last, giving the child a friendly smile. "I'm here to help you."

"I know," the boy replied. "And I'm not sure I want your help."


	16. Chapter 16

_"Piglet noticed that even though he had a Very Small Heart, it could hold a rather large amount of Gratitude."-from Winnie-the-Pooh by A.A. Milne_

* * *

Rachel woke up to horror. The walls around her seemed to be shifting before her very eyes, warping and twisting into monsters from her childhood nightmares. She was tied to a chair, the ropes snakes that hissed every time she shifted nervously. Her eyes rolled with panic and her breath was coming in little pants as she jerked against the bindings. The people around her, each one wearing a filter so they could breathe properly, did not so much as glance at her. Other the months since he had received special funding, Jonathan Crane had tested his air born fear serum on various people. The workers beneath Arkham had long ago learned not to attempt to intervene on behalf of those on the serum unless they wished to suffer from a horrible fate. They turned away from Rachel Dawes and continued, dripping the compound into the water supply of the Narrows.

The psychiatrist himself was standing above it all, a sickly smile on his face. Beside him was a woman in a short black dress, her keen green eyes scanning her surroundings. "Is everything suitable?" Crane questioned, leaning scrawny elbows against the edge of the rusting railing, not minding the orange stains it was putting on his clothing.

"It seems well," the woman replied with a toss of her brown hair. Those intense eyes never left the workers below and her facial expression did not change. She was an unmovable force and she made Crane nervous. The psychiatrist shifted his weight a little and the woman glanced at him, those eyes freezing him in place. "You are dismissed." Her tone was regal, that of a queen addressing a peon of society. Crane went, glad to be away from his piercing stare, and the woman descended to the floor. She was not wearing any kind of respirator but the gas rising up from large troughs of Crane's toxic mixture did not bother her.

She approached the Assistant District Attorney of Gotham completely silently and slid her hand under the other woman's chin, sharp fingernails digging into tender flesh. "Listen to me very carefully," she said, her voice rich with a foreign accent that, even without the toxin coursing through her system, Rachel would have struggled to place. "The Bat will come for you and when he does I need you to warn him. Tell him that the danger is in the water." Then the woman withdrew, leaving red scratch marks on Rachel's chin. Talia al'Ghul turned her back on the suffering going on behind her and walked out of Jonathan Crane's fear factory, leaving no trace of her presence behind.

* * *

The boy had his arms folded over his chest, wariness making his huge blue eyes gleam. "Why are you here?" the child demanded, seeming determined not to move from his spot until Superman explained himself. It was a very odd situation to be in for Clark. Normally people seemed glad to be rescued. This child was wary and irritated instead.

"I am currently away from Metropolis on business and I heard you," the alien explained and the boy studied him almost curiously, head tilting slightly to one side.

"You can do that?" The boy seemed fascinated by the new piece of information, curiosity overriding some of his wariness.

"Yes," Clark told him with a gentle smile. The boy grinned at him then, blue eyes sparkling.

"Super hearing and flying? That isn't very fair to the bad guys," the child chirped, beaming.

"Probably not," Clark agreed, smile widening. He hesitated a moment and then added, "I suspect you already know who I am but I don't know who you are. Would you mind telling me your name?"

"I don't know," the boy said, shifting uncomfortably as he studied the alien.

"A nickname?" Clark suggested. The boy considered that, blue eyes going distant before they focused back on Superman.

"You can call me Robin."

"It's nice to meet you Robin." Clark landed on the ground, smile still in place. "Can you direct me so I can take you home? I'm not familiar with Gotham so I'm going to need some help."

"Yeah," Robin replied cheerfully. "I think I can do that. Although..." The boy leaned forward as if telling the alien a secret. "I'm pretty new to Gotham to."

"I think between the two of us we'll be able to manage." Clark reached out his arms to the boy. "Ready to fly?"

The alien found himself startled by the sheer emotion gleaming in Robin's eyes. The boy sniffled a little but his smile was wide and almost blinding. "Always," came the reply, tiny body settling in Clark's arms. Superman smoothly lifted off the ground, rising up and out of the already broken window. They rose into the dark and cloudy Gotham sky, a cool breeze brushing against them. The boy let out a little watery laugh in Clark's ear, arms wrapped loose around the alien's neck. He cradled Robin carefully in one arm as he enjoyed the rushing feeling that came with flight. Ever since he had discovered the ability, Clark had loved to fly. The freedom it supplied him with was nothing he had ever experienced before and it was a source of boundless joy. For a moment he lost himself in the delight of it all, glad that Gotham could not tarnish this for him. Then a dark shadow flowed across a rooftop a few feet to his left.

Clark pulled up short and the boy let out a delighted little laugh, loose grip around the man's neck loosening further. The alien tightened his group and the boy grinned at him. "You need to get down there. _Quick!_ "

"You're trying to catch up with the vigilante?" Clark asked, stunned. What would a child want with a ruthlessly efficient crime fighter? Robin simply stared at him as if he was stupid. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," came the pointed response. Then the boy gave Clark wide puppy dog eyes. " _Please_." Clark sighed and turned around, chasing after Gotham's vigilante.

Robin instructed the alien to land on a roof in front of the man and then wiggled out of Clark's grip, landed lithely on the rooftop. "Hi B," he chirped and the vigilante froze as if startled. Then he lunged two steps forward and crushed the boy tight to his chest. "I'm okay, I'm okay," Clark could hear the boy sob against the man's chest.

"You're safe," the man murmured, not releasing the boy. "Everything's okay." The alien could see the boy cling tightly, shuddering a little, and then relax a bit.

"Have you found anything?"

"Rachel's missing," the man replied, gently sweeping the boy behind him and studying Clark. "Who are you?" he growled.

" _B_ ," the boy murmured, tugging a little on the other vigilante's cape. "That's Superman. From Metropolis. Remember the article by Miss Lane."

"Of course," the man replied, voice softening for a moment. Then he turned his attention back to the alien and his tone darkened again. "Why are you in Gotham?"

"I'm here on ordinary business," Clark returned. "I simply happened to hear Robin in trouble and went to assist him."

" _Robin?_ " came the response. For a moment Clark thought the question was directed to him. Then the boy let out a little huff.

"Like I'm going to tell a complete stranger my real name," Robin said, turning exasperated blue eyes toward the dark vigilante.

"You told me."

"Yeah, well that was different." The boy was flushing slightly, trying to burrow into the cape to hide his embarrassment. Clark cleared his throat awkwardly, slightly uncomfortable about witnessing such a private moment between the pair, and the other vigilante turned a dark glare on him.

"I want you out of my city."

"He helped save me," the boy protested, turning pleading blue eyes on the man.

"I know and I am grateful for that but he knows nothing about the League," the vigilante growled. "He would be as much a danger to us as he would be to those that threaten our city."

"I suppose you're right," the boy admitted, smiling apologetically at the alien. "Good," the other vigilante said, then turned a sharp glare on the alien. "Now get out of my city."Clark sighed heavily but didn't protest, not wanting to fight someone who might be able to help Gotham. "Call for me if you require assistance," he said and then rose again into the night sky.

The last thing he heard before he turned his attention forward was the boy murmuring, "Maybe we should let him help."

* * *

Having Dick back with him safe and sound was a huge relief. Bruce felt as if a heavy weight had been lifted from his shoulders, allowing him to breathe properly. Losing Rachel or Alfred to the League would be terrible but losing his son was something that he couldn't accept. The pair stood in silence on the rooftop, watching Metropolis's hero soar into the night. "I think you need to do some research on Superman," Bruce told the boy.

"Maybe later," was Dick's reply. "Like when the League isn't trying to destroy Gotham." Bruce fought down a smile at the tone and ruffled the boy's dark hair. Dick swatted at his hand but kept one hand firmly clenched in the black cape. "So what do we do now?"

"Now we go back to the cave so you can get change into your uniform," Bruce replied. "And then we're going to pay a visit to Arkham Asylum." Dick tilted his head, obviously curious. In response, the man allowed his mouth to curve up slightly before he snatched the boy up and launched himself off the building into the cool night air, the boy's amused laugh lost in the breeze.


	17. Chapter 17

_"When a forest grows too wild, a purging fire is inevitable and natural."- Ra's al Ghul in Batman Begins_

* * *

Batman and Robin crouched on the roof across from Arkham Asylum, two dark shadows observing the chaos below. Their trip to the caves once Dick had been returned to Bruce had ended up being longer than they had initially anticipated. This was because Alfred had brought them the news that the inmates had taken over Arkham. "Do you think this is part of the League's plan?" Dick asked, the brightness of his uniform hidden by his black cape.

"Possibly," Bruce replied. "I did a little research on Jonathan Crane's recent rise to power among Arkham while you were changing. It was a little suspicious considering the man had no connections."

"Mysterious rise to power?" Dick speculated. "Sounds like the League." It was, Bruce reflected, their style. The League liked to have an inside person, someone capable of following their orders, to help their plan run smoothly. Their preferred modus operandi? Making it appear as if a city or country had simply destroyed itself. Bruce suspected that he had originally been meant to be the inside man in the Gotham operation but his reaction to the Grayson assassination had changed all that. Bruce had fled the League, taking the only surviving Grayson with him, and used the skills the League had taught him to hide. "Are we going in?"

"We are," Bruce confirmed and the boy grinned wickedly at him.

"Good. Give me a minute." The boy slipped a mini computer from somewhere and began typing, concentration making his usually cheerful expression blank as he focused on his hacking. "There. Motion sensors and cameras hacked. If anyone's watching, we were never here." The boy was grinning like it was Christmas day, blue eyes sparkling.

"Nicely done," Bruce replied and then jumped off the roof. Dick landed lightly on the ground beside the man and the two took out the inmates guarding the front door with smooth efficiency. No doubt when the police arrived they would be baffled but that wasn't Bruce's concern. He needed to discover what was going on in Arkham Asylum.

The pair made their way down deserted halls, not a single person in sight. It appeared as if all the guards and inmates had simply vanished into thin air. Doors were gaping open, revealing the emptiness left behind. "It's like they fled from the plague," Dick commented, wrinkling his nose. "Or got abducted by aliens."

"I doubt the second is a valid guess," Bruce replied in monotone, making the boy giggle.

"Come on B, I'm sure it's possible." Dick gave the man his best pleading look before breaking out into laughter again. "Where do you think they went?" the boy asked once he calmed down, skipping down the row in order to peer into every room while Bruce watched him like a hawk.

"Possibly underground. Does this place have a basement?"

"Do I look like a psychic?" Bruce arched an eyebrow under the cowl, forgetting for a moment that Dick couldn't really see his facial expressions. The boy sighed when he didn't get a response and pulled out the mini computer again. "Okay, okay. Give me a second." There was soft tapping and then, "The original building plans show a basement below the asylum. There's water lines running through it now so it is supposed to be unusable."

"Where's the entrance?" Dick grinned at him, all mischief.

"Follow me." The boy scrambled down the hall and took a left, Bruce right on his heels. The man was determined not to lose track of the boy. Dick had already been taken from him once. Bruce was not about to have the boy taken from him again.

Dick led the way to a solid steel door with rusted hinges. He picked the lock in fifteen seconds and eased the door open with a pleased grin, heading for the stairs. Bruce reached out and grabbed the boy's shoulder to stop him, shaking his head slightly. "I'm going first." Dick nodded and Bruce led the way down into the shadows. They could hear the sounds of feet shuffling and there was some kind of steam rising up towards them.

"B," Dick said, voice full of trepidation. "I don't think that's natural." Bruce had to agree. The water supply under Gotham shouldn't have been warm enough to create steam which meant some kind of chemical was in the room. Judging by the gas masks the people he could make out through the haze were wearing, it was toxic. Then he saw Rachel.

Rachel Dawes was tied up on a chair in the middle of the room next to a water pipe. Her hair was a mess, one of her knees was dripping blood, and her chest was heaving, head jerking around as if she was seeing things that weren't there. He couldn't leave her there. Bruce scrambled into the open, ignoring Dick when the boy called after him and the workers that were jerking around to stare at him. He needed to rescue Rachel and then he would be able to focus on taking the League down. He was untying her when someone from behind, someone he'd foolishly disregarded, attacked him.

Bruce lashed out and sent the man stumbling away, gas mask broken, only to find himself facing three more. As he worked to dispatch them, cape swirling around and clearing the air around him of the fog, he heard Dick leap into the fray with a wild sounding battle cry. Bruce fought off the other men and turned back to quickly free Rachel. He cut her free and was helping her up when he heard Dick cry out. His first instinct was to search for attackers but the men that had gone after them before were lying on the floor groaning. Instead of being attacked, the boy was doubled over whimpering. Even from a few feet away Bruce could see tear stains on the boy's cheeks. That worried him.

Rachel leaning heavily on him, Bruce made his way over to the boy. By this time Dick had collapsed to the ground clutching his head and screaming. Bruce quickly lowered Rachel to the ground and pulled the boy close. "It's okay," he whispered but the boy kept screaming. "It's okay. Everything's okay." Dick started thrashing and Bruce reluctantly lowered the boy to the ground, scrambling for a gas mask. He yanked the object off the man's face and hesitated before sliding it over a woozy Rachel's nose and mouth. He would need her to be able to walk herself if he was going to carry Dick.

Once Rachel was breathing easily, he grabbed another gas mask and adjusted it over his own mouth in nose. That done, he pulled Dick closer, ignoring the flailing arms. The boy's reaction was akin to that of his worst nightmares. Those nights almost immediately after he had witnessed the murder of his parents featured some of the worst nightmares Bruce had ever seen. Dick had woken up from each one in a blind panic and, at the time, the man hadn't known how to calm him down. In the weeks that had followed, Dick's nightmares had lessened and Bruce had gotten better at comforting the boy but this was different.

Judging by the panicked reactions of the unconscious workers he had stolen the gas masks from, whatever chemical was created the fog was also created some sort of nightmare. He was unsure whether it was a shared nightmare, some kind of community subconscious, or whether the toxin simply triggered a fear response in its victims but he was hoping that, regardless of how it worked that he would be able to figure out how to counteract its effects before it caused any kind of lasting damage.

"W-where am I?" Rachel's voice was choked and strained, as if she had screamed herself hoarse earlier. When he turned his head to look at her she flinched a little, watery eyes widening. "Who are you?"

"I'm Batman," Bruce told her, using the low growl he had before with Carmine Falcone. "You are beneath Arkham Asylum. You were dosed with some kind of toxin, the effects of which are just wearing off." Rachel nodded and then winced a little, as if the motion were giving her a headache. "Can you stand?"

"I-I think so," Rachel replied, pushing herself upright. She wobbled a bit and flung her hands out to catch her balance, steadying slightly. Bruce studied her, silently debating whether or not she would be able to walk on her own, and then decided she would have to. He needed to get Dick out of here.

"Let's move," he growled, scooping the boy up and trying to ignore the feeling that he was running out of time. They stumbled out of the basement of Arkham and into the cool night. Bruce removed his mask, sucked in his first breath of relatively clean air, and then Gotham began to scream.


	18. Chapter 18

_"Nightmares exist outside logic, and there's little fun to be had in explanations; they're antithetical to the poetry of fear."-Stephen King_

* * *

Alfred Pennyworth was not a man who was easily shaken. He had seen a great deal of the evilness in the world when Martha and Thomas Wayne had been shot, leaving behind an angry and terrified ten year old boy. Even after Bruce's mysterious disappearance years later, Alfred had remained to faithfully tend to Wayne Manor and during that time he had seen a great many unexplainable things. This, however, was a little beyond his expertise. He had been watching the evening news, glad to hear that Rachel Dawes had been dropped off by the city's vigilante at the Gotham City Courthouse steps, when a sudden sense of foreboding had struck him. The man had abandoned his tea and taken the lift down into the caves in time for the tumbler to roar inside and Bruce stumbled out, cradling a whimpering and sobbing Dick in his arms.

"Master Bruce-" Alfred had began but the younger man had cut him off with a quick, almost disoriented, shake of his head.

"There was some kind of toxin in the air," Bruce managed to get out, voice rough like he was trying to hold in screams. "Messes with your mind." He took a single step forward and then collapsed, Dick still cradled close. Alfred had managed to both get them on emergency cots but he could do nothing to help their condition. He waited for an hour, hoping the effects of whatever toxin they had encountered would wear off, but it did not. That was when he decided to call for help.

Calling someone in to help Batman, as Dick called Bruce's vigilante persona, was not simple. There were few people in Gotham that wouldn't use the real identity of the vigilante for their own personal gain. Rachel Dawes might help but she had just been brought out of a terrible situation and knew nothing about medicine. In fact, if Alfred correctly recalled Bruce's childhood, science had been far from Rachel's best subject. Leslie Thompkins, who had helped Alfred raise Bruce after the murder of the boy's parents, would have helped without questioning the situation but she was currently in Washington D.C. doing fundraising for her clinic which brought medical help to the impoverished in the Narrows. That left Lucius Fox.

Alfred knew that the man, an old friend of Thomas Wayne's, had helped with Batman's arsenal. Perhaps Fox did not consciously know that he was assisting the vigilante, or at least was able to claim plausible deniability, but the man was far from stupid. Furthermore, he could be counted on to be discrete. It was the only choice that the butler had. Alfred picked up the phone and made the call. Fifteen minutes later there was a rap on the door. Alfred hurried over and opened it, expecting to see Lucius Fox. Instead he was greeted by the elegant figure by Kate Kane.

"Is this a bad time?" the red headed young woman questioned, pulling her coat tighter against the cool breeze. For a moment Alfred did not know what to say. Then a sleek black car pulled into the driveway to park behind Kate's flashy red one.

"Good evening Miss Kane," Fox called, walking up to join them. "If you're here to see Bruce you are going to have to wait. I'm here for a business meeting and it may take a few hours."

"I can wait," Kate said, her expression determined. Alfred ushered them both in, getting Kate settled in the sitting room she had waited for Bruce in earlier. Once he was sure she was comfortable, he led Fox down into the caves. He could only hope that help had arrived on time.

* * *

_They were falling, toppling endlessly over one another in a terrible dance. Their legs tangled together at the end, just before they crashed into the unforgiving ground like broken dolls. Dick's lower lip trembled and he let out a little wail, hand stretched out towards the empty air his parents had gracefully inhabited just moments before. Then he was scrambling down the ladder to the ground, limbs shaking so badly it was a wonder he didn't go tumbling down like Alice when she had slipped inside the rabbit hole. He stumbled when his feet reached the ground, dropped to his knees, and sobbed. That was when they moved._

_His parents corpse's rose up like puppets in the hands of a very inexperienced puppet master, their movements jerky and awkward. His father's neck was snapped, head twisted awkwardly, and his mother's head had broken open in the back like an overripe melon. "You did this too us," his father accused, a single finger covered in his own blood pointing out toward his son. "You let us die."_

_"Why did you abandon us to our fate?" his mother wailed, her words slurred by the head wound and her eyes unfocused._

_"I'm sorry," Dick whimpered, tears pouring down his cheeks. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."_

_"Why did you let us die?" his older cousin, John, demanded, rising up behind Dick's parents along with the boy's aunt and uncle. "Why didn't you warn us? Did you hate us that much?"_

_"I don't hate you. I don't, I don't. I didn't mean for you to die." Dick was beginning his family to understand, desperate to erase the loathing and hate he saw on their faces. "I didn't understand what I saw."_

"Dick?" _a distant voice called but the boys watering blue eyes were fixed on the accusing faces of his family._ "Dick wake up!"

The boy jolted up with a gasp, tears pouring down his cheeks. The instant he caught sight of Bruce, the boy flung himself into his guardian's arms, sobbing. "How long?" he heard Bruce rumble at someone but he was sobbing too hard to properly hear the reply. A hand ran in circles on his back, the man trying to calm Dick. The boy nuzzled into the man's now damp shirt, pulling in hitching breaths.

"-an hour or so to create an antidote," a man's voice was saying. "I don't know when precisely you arrived but I suspect you were under the control of the toxin at least two hours. Possibly longer."

"Are you okay Dick?" The boy shook his head, refusing to give up his grip on Bruce.

"Miss Kane is upstairs waiting to see you Master Bruce," Alfred cut in, voice as mild as ever. "She refused to postpone talking to you."

"Okay," Bruce said, carefully picking Dick up. "I'll go speak to her. I trust I do not have to tell you to keep our secret Mr. Fox."

"Of course not Mr. Wayne," came the reply from the man who was speaking to Bruce earlier. "I shall see you at work." Bruce nodded once, chin bumping lightly into the top of Dick's head, and then walked away. The boy closed his eyes, pressed closer to his guardian, and tried to forgot what he'd seen. It didn't work. The lift stopped smoothly and Bruce stepped out, walking out of the study and down a hall.

"Miss Kane," Dick heard Bruce said, his voice cold and uninviting. "Now is not a good time."

"And when exactly is a good time to give you the message I've been sent with?" Kate snapped back. "My family, _our family_ because they're related to you too, is in danger because of some mad man and the only thing keeping them alive is my promise to deliver a message to you." Dick felt Bruce stiffen and the boy's fingers tightened their grip on the man's shirt.

"Kate, what exactly are you talking about?"

"Someone broke into my house, killed all our personnel, and locked my parents up in a closet." Kate's voice was tight with barely suppressed fury but her eyes were filled with fear. "I thought we were all going to die. Then, twenty minutes before I arrived here, a woman showed up. She told him something and the next thing I know, the man is threatening my parents. My mother is in a _wheelchair_ because of her cancer. She doesn't need the added stress of seeing someone holding a knife to her husband's throat and threatening to kill him unless I deliver a message to Bruce Wayne."

"What is the message Kate?" Bruce asked, voice empty. Dick shivered and pressed closer to his guardian, seeking some kind of comfort. With the nightmare so fresh in his mind, hearing Bruce so blank was frightening. The man rubbed Dick's shoulders, eyes still fixed on Kate.

"He said to tell you that Gotham will fall. And that if the Bat flies again tonight, the Kane family will die." Kate's voice wavered a little at the end of her speech and Dick heard her heels click away. Then there was only silence, Bruce's hand absently running back and forth across the boy's shoulders.

"B-bruce," Dick sniffled, head still pressed against the man's shoulder. "What are we going to do?"

"I'm not sure," Bruce murmured into the boy's hair. "Not yet. But we'll think of something."


	19. Chapter 19

_"This is all a lie, she wants to say to them. The dead are not hovering nearby to knock politely at teacups and tabletops and whisper through billowing curtains."- Celia Bowen from The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern_

* * *

Bruce headed directly back to the cave once Kate left, arms still wrapped around Dick. The boy was still trembling and clinging to him as if he was afraid he was asleep and the dream he'd experienced under the influence of Scarecrow's toxin was real. Bruce understood the feeling. When the toxin had finally overpowered him, he had seen his parents rise up from the pool of sticky blood he still recalled when he thought of that terrible night. They had snapped at him that their deaths had been his fault, that if he hadn't gone running off into the alley they wouldn't have died. Then Dick's parents had joined them, insisting that he shouldn't have just stood by and allowed the League of Shadows to murder them. The nightmare had shaken him but with Dick this upset he couldn't afford to show his turmoil. The boy would only feed on the negative emotions.

"You can't go out," the boy mumbled into the fabric of his shirt as the lift smoothly glided downwards. "They'll die."

"I know," Bruce replied, stepping out on to the rough cave floor. He sat down in front of the computer and woke it with a swift motion, settling the boy in his lap. Dick pressed his head against Bruce's rib cage and let out a shuddery breath, adjusting his tight grip on his guardian. Able to move a little, Bruce brought up a protected search engine the boy had set up before Ra's had kidnapped him and considered his options one last time before typing something into the search bar and hitting enter. He stroked his hand through Dick's hair while he waited and the boy tried to press closer, sniffing a little.

Results popped up and Bruce quickly found himself sorting through newspaper article after newspaper article. Apparently Superman, also known as the Man of Steel, had been busy. He had shown up in Metropolis roughly a year ago, rescuing people from a burning building. Since then he had become a symbol of hope and justice to the people of Metropolis, often stopping after rescues to talk to locals or agreeing to interviews with the Daily Planet's top reporter, Lois Lane. A little bit of side research let him know that the Daily Planet had relatively few reporters. There were brief biographies next to photographs of each of the reporters and he was about to close the window when one of them caught his attention.

"Dick," he said, running a gentle hand back and forth on the boy's shoulder. "Can you take a look at something for me?"

"Uh-huh," Dick sniffed, shifting so he could turned and see the screen. His watery blue eyes widened with surprise as he stared at the picture Bruce indicated. "That's- That's the guy..." Dick trailed off, shaking his head slightly, and then turned his head up to stairs directly at Bruce. "That's Superman."

"That's what I thought," Bruce replied. "Do you think you could find me a cell phone number?" Dick nodded and squirmed around to rapidly type in a fresh window.

"Are we calling for help?" the boy questioned curiously as he waited for his results to come up.

"Yes," Bruce replied, squeezing the boy's shoulder. "We are."

"Good." Dick's voice wavered a little on the answer and he turned away from the screen, a few tears sliding down his cheeks as he looked up at his guardian. "Bruce, about what I saw..."

"Yes?"

"I-" the boy cut himself off and sniffed, wiping his nose on his shirt sleeve. "I saw my parents and they t-told me... They told me it was my fault they were dead. That I should have warned them." A few months after the boy had begun to live with Bruce, he had admitted that he had seen Tony Zucco argue with the ringmaster, Haly the morning before the tragic accident.

"The deaths of your parents was not your fault," Bruce told the boy. "The League held some kind of grudge against your family and they used Tony Zucco to carry out their will. Furthermore, you were an eight year old child. You didn't understand what was happening. None of what happened was your fault. Understand?"

"Yeah," Dick sniffed, hugging the man tightly for a moment. Then he turned back to the computer screen, some of the tension seeming to melt away. "Bingo! Got the number." Bruce ruffled the boy's hair, which earned him an irritated grumble, and glanced at the screen before grabbing a burn phone, one meant to make a single call before it was destroyed.

"Nice job." He lifted the boy up and stood, settling Dick back in the chair. "Your parents would be proud of you," he added softly. Dick aimed a wavering smile at the man who smiled back before dialing the number and lifting the phone to his ear. Clark Kent answered the phone after the third ring.

"Who is this?" Superman asked.

"Guess," Bruce growled back in the Batman voice.

There was a long pause and then, "I'm sorry but I have no idea who you are."

"Yes you do, _Superman_." Kent let out a strangled sound but Bruce continued on as if he had not been interrupted. "Be on the roof of the Gotham National Bank in twenty minutes." Then he hung up and removed the phone's chip, crushing it under his heel.

"You do remember you can't go out, right?" Dick pressed, confused blue eyes fixed on the man.

"Yes, I do," Bruce replied. "But the orders never said anything about Robin."

"I get to work with Superman?" Dick questioned, eyes lighting up as he scrambled out of the chair. "Oh boy!"

"You get to tell him about the Kanes," Bruce corrected. "And to convince him to help us. You do not get to to help." For a moment Dick's enthusiasm dimmed a little and he pouted. When Bruce didn't give in, he shrugged and started beaming again. "Why are you so excited about this?"

"Because it's _Superman_ ," Dick said. "I mean, I did some research before Ra's dragged me off and after meeting him, he's everything the articles say he is."

"You do realize you get to work with Batman pretty much every night," Bruce pointed out. Dick shook his head at the man, grinning widely.

"But Batman is a grouch. Superman is nice," Dick replied before scampering off to get changed. Bruce watched the boy go, bemused and perhaps a little jealous.

* * *

Clark hovered above the rooftop of the Gotham National Bank, worry churning in his gut as he searched for any sign of the Gotham City vigilante. When he had first received the call to his cell phone, he had suspected that it was a wrong number. Then he had heard the low grumble of the other vigilante's voice. Worse yet, the vigilante had called him Superman as if he were certain Clark was Superman's alter ego. It was worrisome. A bang and a hiss caught his attention. He turned in time to see a small boy scramble over the edge of the roof. He was dressed in red, green, yellow, and black with a black mask around his blue eyes. "Hi there," the boy said with a cheerful wave of a green gloved hand. There was something about the boy that was extremely familiar but Clark couldn't quite place him.

"Who are you?" the alien asked warily. He didn't think the child posed a threat to him but he wasn't quite sure.

"You can call me Robin," the boy replied, smile never wavering. "Batman sent me."

" _Robin?_ " Clark asked, dropping out of the sky to land on the roof. Was this really the boy he had rescued earlier? The blue eyes were certainly the right color and the build was the same. That would also explain why the boy had been so eager to see Gotham's vigilante.

"That's me! Thanks for the help earlier," Robin told him.

"You're welcome," Clark replied, unable to keep himself from smiling back at the cheerful boy. Then he turned to business. "Why was I called here?"

"You know the man who kidnapped me earlier?" Robin asked, shuffling awkwardly from foot to foot before stilling himself. Clark nodded and the boy gave him a much thinner smile than before. "His name is Ra's al'Ghul. He's trying to destroy Gotham. Batman and I are going to stop him but he knows Batman, knows how he works, so he's taken steps to stop us. There's a family called the Kane's. They live on the rich side of Gotham and Ra's has taken them hostage. He's threatening to kill them if Batman tries to stop him. We need you to help them so when can stop Gotham from being obliterated."

Clark had never been able to turn down a person in need, especially not when someone's life was in danger. It could have been Lex Luthor someone was threatening to kill and he still would have gone rushing to the rescue. "Can you point me in the right direction?" he asked and the boy nodded, pointing a finger in a straight line to what looked like a large mansion in the distance. "Will you be here when I return?"

"'Course I will," the boy replied, rolling his eyes as if Clark was an idiot. The alien reached over to ruffle the boy's hair before flying off the roof towards the home Robin had indicated. He had work to do.

* * *

Rachel was exhausted but her night was far from over. She had given her statement to the police but while she had been speaking a female voice had slipped through her memories, insisting she deliver a message to the Bat. Instant guilt had swamped her because Batman had rescued her and the what the woman had told her might help the vigilante stop whatever Crane was planning. That was why she found herself standing on the courthouse steps where the vigilante had dropped her off after rescuing her. "Batman?" she called in the dark night sky, cool wind whipping her hair across her face. " _Batman!"_ She waited, searching for a dark shadow in the sky, but saw nothing. Next she scanned the surrounding alleys, heart thudding out a chorus of fear and hope. "Please," she said softly into the shadows.

She had almost given up hope when a small shadow detached itself from the roof of the nearby bank and landed gently in front of her. The blackness of his cape fell back over his shoulders to reveal bright red, yellow, and green, the colors of the boy that had been with Batman when the vigilante had rescued her. "Do you need help?" he asked, concern clear in his voice.

"I was given a message for Batman while I was held captive," Rachel told the boy. "One I had forgotten about until now."

"Given a message by who?" The boy sounded worried and his body had gone tense.

"A woman," Rachel replied, closing her eyes and trying to picture the elusive figure. "All I really remember is her voice and her eyes. They were really green. She had an accent too. Maybe Middle-Eastern?" She hesitated a moment and then added, "If I give you the message could you pass it on to Batman?"

"Yes," was the simple reply.

"Okay." Rachel let out a shaky breath and glanced around, searching for anyone who might be listening nearby before continuing. "The woman said, 'Tell him the danger is in the water.'"

"That's it? The danger is in the water?" The boy sounded both worried and irritated, as if he wished the mysterious woman had said more.

"That's all."

He gave her a weak smile of thanks and she managed a shaky one of her own in response. "Thank you Ms. Dawes," he replied, his formal politeness adorable. "You might want to head home now. The streets aren't safe."

"I know," Rachel replied, smile widening a little. "Stay safe sweetheart." Then she turned and hurried towards her apartment, eager to sink into her bed after everything that had happened to her. Behind her, there was a tink and a hiss. When she turned to glance curiously back, she saw nothing but the shadows.


	20. Chapter 20

_"They've got him cornered. They've got him outnumbered. They've got him trapped. They're in trouble..."-from Batman: Year One by Frank Miller_

* * *

Rachel's message had been worrying, to say the least. Dick clambered back up to the top of Gotham National and glanced toward the Kane household, hoping to catch a glimpse of Superman soaring across the gradually lightening sky, but saw nothing but clouds. He lifted a slightly trembling hand to the communication device hooked over his ear. "B, you there?" he asked, trying to keep the uncertainty from out of his voice.

"Of course." Bruce's voice steadied the boy some, easing his shaking.

"I found Rachel yelling for you, Batman-you I mean, and went down to see what was going on," Dick told his guardian. "She had a message for you. She said that a woman with a Middle Eastern accent and really green eyes said to tell you that the danger was in the water."

There was a moment of silence as Bruce absorbed the information. Then, " _Talia_." Bruce sounded certain.

"That what I thought," Dick agreed. "But we can't be sure." He frowned into the night sky when he didn't get an answer, absently taking in the sight of Superman soaring towards him across the backdrop of clouds that were turning a continually lighter shade of grey. "B, what are you thinking?"

"The message was that the danger was in the water?"

" _Ye-ah?_ " The boy cautiously drew the world out, uncertain about where Bruce was going with that particular train of thought. "Look B, you're gonna have to tell me when I get back. Superman's almost here."

"Be safe," was Bruce's only reply before Dick was left alone with silence.

The boy turned to face Superman, forcing a smile. "Is it over?"

"The Kane family are safe and the..."

Superman trailed off and Dick's smile became a little more genuine as he offer, "Ninjas?'

"Ninjas," the other hero agreed. "Have been detained. The police were just arriving when I left."

" _Awesome_ ," Dick breathed with a pleased grin. He bounced a little, glad that everything had worked out well. Then he remembered the message that might have been from Talia and the fact that the League of Shadows was still in Gotham to threaten its citizens. The smile slipped off his face. "Thank you for your help," he said almost mechanically and allowed himself to step backwards off the building.

The moment of free fall was something Dick no longer dreaded. After learning to fly on the trapeze, it was something he welcomed. His hand moved to release the grapple that would send him into a smooth swing when a hand simply grabbed him out of thin air. Dick found him staring up with mild irritation at a very worried Superman. "I had everything under control," the boy protested, pouting a little.

"You jumped off a building," Superman protested, getting a more comfortable hold on the boy. "And..." He hesitated a moment, blue eyes worried as they studied Dick's small form. "You're just a child. Children shouldn't be doing this.

"It was my choice," the boy replied, crossing his arms over his chest. "My decision to make. No one else's." His own blue eyes bore into Superman's. "You don't get to make that call."

* * *

Sunrise in Gotham brought the kind of chaos that only was supposed to happen in nightmares. Jim Gordon had just signed off after a long night of patrol first around the chaos of a now empty Arkham and then waiting out the events at the Kane Mansion. He wanted nothing more than to sink into his bed and drift off to sleep, maybe cuddle up with a still sleepy Babs. It wasn't to be. The Narrows erupted into panicked screams just as he stepped outside the door of the police precinct. Jim found himself turning around and heading directly back inside. His new partner, a pretty blonde woman named Sarah Essen, glanced up from where she was chatting with Lucy Hamel at the secretary's desk. "I thought you were leaving," Sarah asked, sounding amused.

"Oh my god!" a voice squealed from one of the few offices with a window. Lucy's replacement for the morning, Cassidy Wallis scrambled into the main room, face pale. "The water lines in the Narrows, they've exploded."

"That," Jim told Sarah, "is why I came back in. You can hear the screams from the steps."

"Have you called your sister?" was Sargent Essen's reply. "Because we're about to need all hands on deck."

* * *

Dick arrived back in the cave with company. Bruce slid the computer chair so he could see the entrance and watched with disapproval as Superman gently lowered the boy to the ground. "I tried to persuade him not to come," Dick said as he scampered over to the man. "He wouldn't listen."

"That is unfortunate," Bruce said, pausing in his typing to squeeze Dick's shoulder reassuringly and then turning back to the screen. The boy's eyes widened when he saw what his guardian was looking at while the Man of Steel gaped at the pair.

"What's going on?"

"Trouble," was Bruce's reply. "The main water pipes underneath the streets of the Narrows have exploded. It's causing chaos."

"The danger in the water," Dick murmured. "Do you think this is what that message meant?"

Before Bruce could answer, Superman finally managed to blurt out, "Bruce Wayne?"

" _Yes_?" Bruce inquired, voice cold. Superman seemed to wilt a little and his feet finally touched the floor. Dick muffled his giggle behind his hand and landed against Bruce's chair, nudging an elbow into the man's side. When the man glanced over, the boy shook his head slightly as if to say they didn't have time for this. He was right. "Did you require something Kent?"

"You're _Batman_?" The reporter sounded completely stunned, as if he didn't understand what he was seeing.

"Yes," Bruce growled in response, standing and heading for the closet shoved up against a relatively smooth cave wall. "Now get out of my city." He flung open the doors and pulled out the Batman garb, intending to slip around a corner to change. He and Dick needed to stop the League before people were killed.

"He's a little grouchy," the man heard Dick say apologetically as he slipped around a corner into a smaller cave with a slightly warmer temperature than the larger one. "But he's right. The League of Shadows is ours to deal with. Your Metropolis's hero. We're Gotham's." Bruce pulled the cowl over his eyes and took a moment force the smile off his face.

"You may need help," Superman protested. As Batman stepped into view, clipping his belt around his waist.

"Thanks for the offer," Dick said, turning a wide grin towards Bruce. "But Batman and Robin work alone."

"He's right," Bruce agreed. "Your service is no longer needed." The Man of Steel looked as if he wanted to protest but Bruce didn't give him the time. Instead he guided Dick towards the tumbler, shooting a dark scowl towards Superman. " _Get out of my city."_ Then he slid in the driver's seat and the vehicle rumbled to life, roaring out of the caves and heading directly for the Narrows.


	21. Chapter 21

_"Theatricality and deception are powerful agents."-Henri Ducard from Batman Begins_

* * *

The Narrows were filled with screams. It hadn't taken the police force long, even with Commissioner Gillian Loeb slowing the entire process down, to realize that there was some water born pathogen being launched into the air via steam which was causing violent reactions in the locals. They had then called for gas masks and hurried to evacuate as many people from the slums as they could before the toxin got too thick. It wasn't helping. Too much time had passed between the first release of the toxin and the response of the police. The streets were chaos, terrified gangsters attacking terrified citizens and even some terrified cops who had shot a few people before they were disarmed. To make matters worse, thunder rumbled overhead, panicking the citizens worse then they'd been before.

"This is a disaster," Sarah Essen said from her position next to Jim. She was too seasoned to gape at the destruction around them but her eyes were worried. "We can't even contain one block. How are we supposed to contain the city?" None of the other officers tried to answer her but they were all thinking the same thing; they couldn't. This mess would spread and it had the potential to destroy Gotham. Already two buildings were burning and the fire department couldn't make it through the chaotic streets to put out the flames. Another building nearby groaned, probably experience structural damaged caused by one, or several, frightened Gothamites.

Absently Jim found himself wondering where the mysterious vigilante and his tiny partner were. Would they be heading out on to the streets or were they safe and sound tucked away in their secret hideout? As if to answer him, the rumbling roar of an engine approached from behind. "What is _that_?" a younger cop yelled and they found themselves spinning around only to stare in shock at what appeared to be a heavily armored black tank racing towards them. It was unlike any vehicle Jim had ever seen before and he doubted he would find a copy of it if he searched the world.

"Get out of the way," he called and police officers dove aside, allowing the vehicle to roar by. Even hysterical citizens dove out of the way.

"Well," Sarah said, her voice soft and surprised. "That was new." The young officer next to her nodded, face pale.

"Where does someone get a vehicle like that?" another of the officers questioned.

"No idea," a third voice called out, sounding bemused.

"Come on people. We have work to do." Sarah clapped her hands twice, breaking off the chat session, and everyone's attention turned towards her. "There are still unaffected people out there. It is our duty to get them out. Now let's move." The young officers scrambled into action and Sarah turned an amused smile towards Jim, tossing him a gas mask from the supply truck that had arrived in the wake of the mysterious vehicle. "Ready to work partner?"

* * *

Jonathan Crane cackled delightedly as he walked into the screaming streets of Gotham, burlap mask firmly in place. Beside him were several thugs who had been locked away in Arkham. They had seen what his gas was truly capable of and had agreed to work for him. Behind the thugs, and wearing a disapproving frown, was Talia al'Ghul. The heir to the League of Shadows had continued to be far from impressed with the crazy psychologist's operation, despite the effectiveness of the toxin. "It is an inelegant way to destroy a city," she had said, studying the chaos around them. "The Shadows could have chosen a far better tool than you."

"It doesn't matter," Crane replied, grinning widely beneath his mask. "Gotham is feeling true fear for the first time in her horrid life. Isn't it simply beautiful?" Talia snorted, her lips curled in disgust.

"This city is not beautiful. It is a twisted shadow and it is screaming." Her green eyes flashed as one hand casually drew a blade, holding it easily in her palm. "And you are nothing but a tool. Remember your job." The woman fluidly brushed by him, sliding through the crowd of panicked citizens like a ghost. Crane spared a glance to watch her go before turning back to the chaos.

"Come my friends," he said to the thugs, beaming smile still in place. "Let us sow the seeds of fear and destruction about the populace." That said, Crane stepped into the chaotic mob with now fear and his thugs followed, some of them exchanging worried glances. They had seen what Scarecrow's gas did to people and, despite their oaths of loyalty, they didn't want to experience the horrors the toxin would show them.

* * *

The Narrows were in chaos but there was no sign of the League of Shadows. Bruce was beginning to think that they had made a mistake in coming out of here. He had parked the tumbler on a quiet street and entered the night with Dick at his side, gas masks covering their mouth and nose. He had ordered the boy to stay close and the pair had cut a swath through the mess that the Narrows had become, allowing fire engines to reach the fires spreading across the slums. They took down thugs and hung them from lamp posts and fire escapes so they wouldn't be able to escape and cause more trouble. It wasn't helping. Jonathan Crane's toxin was tearing the Narrows apart and unless they could figure out how to shut down Crane's operation and mass produce an antidote than the entire city would self destruct. This, naturally, was the League's plan.

The pair paused to catch their breath down an alley, several people moaning and whimpering as they huddled against walls or piles of garbage. "We haven't seen a single Shadow since we got out here and nothing we're doing is making any difference," Dick said, face pale with growing exhaustion. "We're losing B." The desperation in the boy's voice was heartbreaking.

"We need a new plan?" Bruce growled, punching a thug hard when the man attempted to brain him with a wooden cane. "Remember the police officer Kate introduced us to at that gala?"

"Yeah. What about him?"

"I need you to go find him. He should be with the police lines keeping people from entering or exiting the Narrows. Convince him to get in contact with Lucius Fox. That's who concocted the antidote for us when we were under the influence of the toxin. With any luck, he will be able to duplicate the results and mass produce an antidote that could be used to cure the inhabitants of the Narrows. I'm going to track down Crane and find out how to stop the toxin from continually infecting more people."

"Are you sure about this B?"

"No," Bruce replied, just barely resisting the urge to pull the boy into a hug. "But it's the only plan we have."

"Okay boss," Dick said, forcing a chipper looking smile.

"Call if you need me and I'll come," Bruce told the boy whose smile turned into something more genuine.

"I know B." Then he turned and scampered away. Bruce turned and headed deeper into the chaos, resisting the urge to look back. He had taught Dick to protect himself. Now he just had to trust the boy to do just that.

Finding Crane was difficult. Most people were too hysterical to talk but a few managed to stammer something about a man wearing a burlap mask. Maybe that man wasn't Crane but it was a start. Batman made his way deeper into the slums, following the ever increasing screams. He perched on the edge of a crumbling rooftop, peering at the chaos below, and lifted a hand to his comm. "Robin, report," he ordered gruffly, scanning the ground for his target.

"Approaching the police lines now," Dick replied. "From that point, it should be simple to find Captain Gordon."

"Good," Bruce rumbled, eyes following on a man who the crowd seemed to flow apart for. He was wearing a burlap mask and his weedy form fit the pictures the man had seen of Jonathan Crane. "Keep me posted."

"You've got it boss," Dick chirped before being replaced by the sound of rushing air as Bruce launched himself off the roof. He had a mad psychologist to interrogate.

* * *

Dick Grayson hesitated as he approached the police line, unsure of his next move. He didn't want to get shot if he surprised one of the officers, even if the uniform did have Kevlar weave, and he didn't want to mistake James Gordon for anyone else. Pick the wrong person and he would be dead or in jail and of no help to Bruce. Worse yet, he might find himself benched for the rest of his life. That thought was horrifying. The last thing he wanted was to have to be _normal_ for the rest of his life.

The boy made his way through the shadows, studying each of the officers in turn. _No, no, no...Maybe?_ Dick paused, studying one of the officers, and then shook his head. _Not that one either._ "Robin, _report_." The dark note in Bruce's voice was more Batman than the boy's guardian and a sure sign that the man had said the same thing more than once and was becoming worried.

"I'm okay," he rushed to reassure Bruce. "Just searching for Gordon."

"Answer me when I call for a report," came the snarled reply. "Or next time you can stay in the cave."

"Not cool B," Dick couldn't help but whine despite the disastrous situation they were all in.

" _Robin._ "

"Okay, okay," the boy said, deflating at the silent threat. "I promise I'll answer." He got silence in reply. The boy sighed and turned his attention back to the line of officers. "Found him." Now how to approach the man without getting shot? Dick wrinkled his nose. Then he decided to take the simplest course of action; he stepped into view.

Captain Gordon was not the first person to catch sight of him. Instead he was spotted by the blonde woman standing next to him. Luckily her first reaction wasn't to reach for her gun. Instead she stared at him, shocked. "Gordon," she said, nudging the man after a moment. "Does the vigilante have a sidekick?" James Gordon turned to look and then froze.

"Umm...hi?" Dick offered with a little wave, wondering if he should start running so as to avoid getting shot.

"You're the boy from earlier," Captain Gordon said, seeming to shake off his shock. "The one with the vigilante."

"That's me," Dick replied, allowing a bright smile to spread across his face. "Batman and I, we kind of need your help. There's someone who can manufacture a cure for the toxin that is infecting the city. His name is Lucius Fox and he works at Wayne Enterprises. We need to get to him, and fast."

Gordon and the woman exchanged and glance the boy couldn't quite read as he shuffled uncomfortably from foot to foot. Then Captain Gordon looked at him, determination shining in his eyes. "Let's go."


	22. Chapter 22

_"Happiness can be found, even in the darkest of times, if one only remembers to turn on the light."-Albus Dumbledore from the Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban movie_

* * *

Batman dropped from the sky like an avenging angel. The people around Crane, even the hired muscle, scattered like frightened children but the psychiatrist himself did not twitch. "Jonathan Crane," Bruce growled and the man laughed. It was a warm, rich sounded totally out of place in the chaos and terror of the streets. It was also something Bruce did not have time for. Every moment away from Dick made the worry in his chest expand further and increased his irritation with the entire situation. "How are you spreading the toxin?"

"There is no more Jonathan Crane," came the reply and Bruce could easily imagine the man's manic smile. "There is only Scarecrow."

"How are you spreading the toxin?" Bruce growled, ignoring the name change for the time being. "How do I shut the system off?" Scarecrow laughed again, throwing his arms out expansively.

"I have finally shown Gotham how to feel true fear," Scarecrow replied. "I've accomplished my dream. Why would I want to tell you anything that might ruin it?" Bruce did not reply. Instead he wrapped one hand around the weedy man's throat and shot a grapple into the air with the other. They rose up with a hiss and Scarecrow let out a startled little shriek. Bruce ignored the sound, steadying himself on the rooftop and then hanging Crane off over the edge. That got the man's attention. "What are you doing you maniac?" Scarecrow demand, a hand coming up to clutch at Batman's gauntlet.

"How do I shut off the system?" Batman growled.

"There's a fail safe in the basement of Arkham," Scarecrow spat out. "Now put me down you freak."

"Gladly," Batman rumbled and dropped him.

Crane screamed as he toppled downwards only to land on a fire escape directly below where he had been dangling. Batman hadn't hung around long enough to see the man landing safely, already heading for the asylum. As he did he called for a report from Robin. No response. With worry churning in his gut, he paused on a rooftop and demanded a report. Still nothing. That was when he slid properly into the Batman growl. "Robin, _report_."

"I'm okay," came the hurried reply. "Just searching for Gordon."

"Answer me when I call for a report or next time you can stay in the cave," Bruce threatened, heart still thudding as if it were trying to break free of his chest.

"Not cool B," Dick whined, further reassuring the man that he was unharmed.

" _Robin._ " The growl was more relief than anything else but it forestalled any further protests as he headed for the next rooftop.

"Okay, okay," Dick muttered in his ear. "I promise I'll answer." Bruce let himself be satisfied by that answer for the time being as he made his way down the side of a building to land in a crouch across the street from Arkham Asylum. Sunrise was spilling watery light across Gotham, most of it obscured by thick clouds that were beginning to threaten rain. Batman crossed the street and entered the asylum, unsurprised to find it completely empty. He walked the halls by memory, following the same route he and Dick had earlier to the basement.

Everything below the asylum was as if had been before, aside from the noticeable absence of workers. Steam billowed around Bruce in a smoke shield, which gave him ideas to work on if he survived this entire mess, and his footsteps, which he wasn't bothering to keep quiet, were hushed by the entire atmosphere. He began scanning the equipment for the fail safe Crane had mentioned. "Hey B, you there?" Dick's voice was shaken over the communicator.

"What is it Robin?" he asked, never pausing in his search despite the worry churning in his gut.

"They've taken Fox." Dick didn't have to specify who _they_ were. "Gordon and his partner are combing through the blueprints while I go over the computer but we might not find anything."

"Okay," Bruce said, finding the fail safe at last and turning the switch with effort. "The machine dispersing the toxin has been shut off. Get what you can out of the computer and then join me on the roof of Wayne Enterprises. From there we'll seek out the League."

"Got it boss," Dick replied, not sounding much steadier, but the boy terminated the connection before Bruce could attempt to reassure him. The man was lifting a hand towards his ear to re-establish the connection when the hiss of a sword being drawn free of its sheath froze him. He turned slowly, cape swishing, to face the grey eyed gaze of Ra's al'Ghul.

* * *

Dick's fingers clattered across the keyboard as Jim Gordon and the blonde officer, Sarah Essen, rustled papers behind him. Lucius Fox's domain had been a mess when they arrived, which had been the first sign that something was wrong. Then the boy had caught a glimpse of the intricate and deadly blade lying pointedly in the middle of Fox's neat desk and had known immediately what it meant. The League had taken their only lead on procuring an antidote for the Narrows away from them. They were losing.

The boy forced down the shudder that thought brought on as he searched the computer for any sign of a possible cure. He didn't think he was going to find one. Fox had done the work for Batman which meant it wasn't likely that he'd kept notes for it. At least not in his office. The sudden thought had Dick freezing, his hand lifting towards his comm and activating it. "B I have an idea." No answer. A sick feeling churned in his gut as a little voice in his mind began to whisper that Bruce was dead and he had been left alone _again_. He shook a little and tried again. "B, come in. I might have something." The tension in his voice caught the attention of the two officers. He could feel those eyes fixed on his back as he said, with more urgency, "Batman, can you hear me?" Nothing.

Dick found himself standing before he had fully registered that he had moved. "Robin?" Jim Gordon questioned, his voice fatherly and concerned.

"Something's wrong," Dick replied, hands clenching into trembling fists.

"Do you need to leave?" Sarah Essen questioned, her voice all business. The boy heard the rustle of papers behind him and realized that the woman had gone back to searching for a possible cure. She was doing her part regardless of what was going on around her. Dick absently admired that, his mind whirring a thousand miles a minute. At last he turned to face them, Essen still skimming papers and Gordon waiting patiently for an answer.

"I think I know where to find the antidote," the boy told the two adults. "It just isn't here." Essen tossed aside the notes at that and stood, dusting her hands off on her pants.

"Okay then. What do you need us to do kid?" she asked.

"If I can bring you the formula or some of the antidote is there someone trustworthy who can duplicate and distribute it aerially to the Narrows?" Gordon appeared uncertain but Essen nodded, expression determined.

"Can do kid. Where do you want us to meet you?"

"Across the road from Gotham General," Dick replied, quickly picking out a landmark he knew he would be able to find. The hospital was firmly settled inside the affluent part of Gotham, which would keep it safely outside the range of the toxin still lingering in the Narrows, and it was hard to miss. That said, he launched himself out a nearby window, aiming his trajectory towards Wayne Manor. Hopefully Alfred would have stored some of the cure in the caves, just in case.

* * *

Bruce was distantly aware of Dick calling for him in his ear but he didn't have time to respond. It had been close to two years since he had fought anyone close to Ra's in skill and he was suffering because of that. He ducked under the slice of a sword which would have beheaded him and lashed out with a smooth kick that never made contact. "Your skills have suffered while you have been away," the League's leader said, smoothly circling before lashing out again. Bruce barely avoided another slice and failed to land yet another blow. "Tell me, what has made you so weak during your absence? Was it your foolish morals or simply a lack of practice?" The older man paused in his circling, a sudden cruel darkness entered his grey eyes. "Or perhaps it was the boy? After all, the child is little more than extra baggage to be towed along. He is of no real use to anyone."

Bruce was unable to hold down a snarl as he lunged for Ra's, ignoring the bite of pain from a wound across his collarbone. His fist crashed hard into the other man's shoulder and the second one settled hard in his opponent's unprotected stomach. There had been barely a moment's opening in which Ra's had been shocked by his recklessness but it had earned Bruce two successful blows. They backed apart from one another and Ra's's eyes became calculating. "Caring for someone else does not make me weak," Bruce told the other man. "And it has not made me any less of a fighter than I was before."

"So you say," Ra's replied. "I shall test that theory." The man lashed out again and Bruce ducked. The two remained locked in the same elaborate dance as minutes dragged by, blood dripping down the Gotham vigilante's chest. A second wound joined the first but Bruce landed several more hits, and those hits were slowly taking a toll on his enemy. "Not bad," Ra's admitted as they fell back to circle again, sweat pouring down Bruce's back. Fighting Ra's al'Ghul was like fighting no one else Bruce had ever faced. Somehow the man had survived centuries and had done nothing in that time besides increase his skill.

That was when Dick's voice sounded in his ear, worried and triumphant at the same time. "B, I don't know if you can hear me but I found a spare vial of the cure that Alfred had set aside. It's being duplicated as I speak." A pause and then, "I'm coming to find you." Bruce allowed a grim smile to cross his face, ignoring whatever his enemy said next as he dodged another blow. Help was on the way.

* * *

Dick lifted his hand away from his communicator after cutting the connection again, wind whipping his cape around his legs. He was standing on the roof of Wayne Enterprises alone, the first drops of rain plummeting downwards from ever blackening clouds. Somewhere in the city below him, Sarah Essen and Jim Gordon were overseeing the mass production of and airborne cure for the fear toxin. That meant it was up to Robin to save Batman. Somehow, that just felt right. The boy launched himself off the rooftop, laughing at the rush of air around him, and shot out his grapple, swinging in a fluid arc towards the Narrows and Arkham Asylum. He might not know exactly where Batman was, but he had a pretty good guess.

He stepped inside Arkham as if he owned the place, strolling down the halls with fluid grace. The steam from earlier was fading away when he reached the stairs leading down into the basement. Each step was slick and it took all of Dick's concentration not to fall on his butt and go tumbling down the stairs to land in a disgraceful heap at the bottom. He heard footsteps in the distance and as soon as he reached the basement he picked up the pace. A flash of a sword had his stomach twisting and he reached for a weapon. This was _Not Good_.

Bruce was fighting Ra's al'Ghul and despite the sweat that was coating them both, it was only Ra's that was sweating. Dick's fishing in his belt came up with a modified shuriken, tossing it towards the leader of the League of Shadows and hoping he didn't hit his guardian instead. He was just lucky enough to pull it off. The blade made a smooth slice on Ra's al'Ghul's unmarred skin, sending blood dripping down like wet paint. The man's lips pulled back in a snarl and Dick found himself grinning coldly. "The game's over Ra's," he said, voice loud in the sudden silence. "In a matter of minutes the cure will be dropped and the last of the toxin will be washed away by the rain. You've lost."

"Are you certain of that circus boy?" Ra's countered. Dick let out a little growl at the not so subtle reminder of what he had lost. Bruce's own low rumble was comforting and the boy's protector lunged forward. Ra's ducked but Dick sent out a second shuriken, more confidant his ability after the first successful throw. While Ra's was busy dodging the projectile, Bruce disarmed the man and then fluidly ducked another blow. Dick was thrumming with nervous energy but he knew better than to jump into the fight. He would either get himself or Bruce killed. Instead he threw yet another sharp projectile, giving Bruce enough time to land a strong blow to the other man's head. Ra's al'Ghul may have been an incredible man but he was still human and as such, had the same weaknesses. He crumpled to the ground, unconscious, leaving Bruce to stand over him panting.

"Police will be coming," Dick pointed out gently, legs shaking slightly. It had been a long night and his day was already partly over. He needed sleep badly.

"Then we should leave before they arrive," Bruce replied, reaching out a hand to steady him. The pair headed for the exit, Bruce supporting the exhausted boy. "Nicely done Robin."

"You know something," Dick replied through a yawn. "You're not so bad yourself."


	23. Chapter 23

_"People have different reasons for the way they live their lives. You cannot put everyone's reasons in the same box."- Kevin Spacey_

* * *

After the events of the night before, Bruce was unsurprised when he did not wake until the next morning, Dick snuggled up against his side. The boy seemed to be sleeping peacefully, unbothered by nightmares. Bruce ran a hand through the boy's hair, earning himself an irritated mumble as his young charge nestled further into the blankets. "Good morning Master Bruce," Alfred said from the doorway.

"Good morning Alfred," he replied, feeling a smile slip on to his face. Regardless of how this whole mess turned out, they had successfully beaten Ra's and brought an end to his current plan. It had been a successful night.

"You might wish to turn on the television," Alfred suggested, setting down a steaming mug of tea on Bruce's bedside table. "I suspect you would appreciate the current news program." The butler left without another word and Bruce reached for the remote with a wide smile, carefully avoiding bumping over the cup of tea. He wasn't exactly fond of the drink but it would hurt if it got on his skin and Alfred would be irritated by the mess. He flicked on the news which earned him another irritated mumble from Dick, this one sounding mildly more awake.

A young blonde reporter was sitting at a news desk, her green eyes sparkling. "In other news the incident last night that left the Narrows in chaos has been dealt with. It has been revealed to be the work of a man known only as Ra's al'Ghul, leader of a terrorist cell called the League of Shadows. With the help of local Arkham Asylum psychologist Jonathan Crane. Both Crane and al'Ghul were arrested last night by local Gotham City police officer teams lead by Sargent Sarah Essen and her partner, Captain James Gordon. Both are currently locked away awaiting trial."

"Thanks for that Beth," the man standing in front of the green screen for the weather said as Bruce became aware of Dick slowly sitting up next to him.

"We did it then?" the boy asked over the sound of the local weather. "We stopped the League?"

"We did," Bruce agreed. "Talia still cares too much for me to lead the League against Gotham and Ra's is, for the time being, locked up."

"That won't last long," Dick said darkly and Bruce had to agree. The League would soon break their leader out of confinement, though they would leave Crane to take the fall, but they would be wary about attacking Gotham again after this spectacular failure.

"It doesn't matter," Bruce said, ruffling the boy's hair. "When the League returns, we'll be ready for them."

"Yeah," Dick agreed, beaming up at the man. "We will."

"Master Bruce," Alfred said, appearing as mysteriously as ever in the doorway, this time holding a phone. "There is a Mr. Clark Kent from the Daily Planet on the phone for you. He says you know him." Bruce ignored Dick's snickers, the laughter heading towards cackling, as he held his hand out for the phone.

* * *

The instant Jim Gordon stepped into his apartment, he was practically tackled by his daughter. Babs clutched his shirt and buried her head in his stomach. He hugged her tightly back as Amelia looked up from her position sprawled on the couch, smiling slightly at him. "Glad you're safe Jimmy," she said through a yawn, standing and stretching.

"Me too," Jim said, gratefulness trying to burn a hole in his chest. His family, what was left of it, was safe and sound and Gotham was quiet. It was more than he had ever dared hope for.

"Is everything okay Daddy?" Babs asked and he scooped her up into his arms regardless of how heavy she was, holding her close.

"Yes sweetheart," he reassured her. "Everything is just fine." Then he kissed her forehead and placed her back on the ground, adding, "How about pancakes for breakfast?" Babs let out a little delighted squeal and scrambled for the kitchen. Jim smiled and shook his head a little before turning to his sister. "Do you want to stay for breakfast?"

"For your pancakes?" Amelia asked with an tired smile. "Of course." She slipped her arm through his, just as they had done when they were younger and things were easier between them, and the pair headed for the kitchen.

* * *

Clark Kent found himself sitting inside Wayne Manor basking in the rare sunlight gleaming through a window. Across from him was Bruce Wayne, billionaire by day and Batman by night. Clark was here to report on the man's return but in the previous day he had learned far more than he had expected. In fact, he hadn't expected to be allowed to interview Bruce. The agreement had been a shock, as had the sight of Robin sliding down the banister and flipping in midair before landing smoothly in the middle of the entryway with a little cackle as Alfred Pennyworth let him inside the building. The boy had waved cheerfully at Clark before scampering off into another room.

"Ask your questions," Wayne ordered, voice gruff. His sharpness was undermined by the little giggle from the man's left where the boy, who he now knew was called Dick Grayson, was tapping away on a computer. Wayne turned and arched an eyebrow at the boy who only grinned widely at him. Clark hid his smile behind his notepad as Wayne turned towards him.

"This shouldn't take too much of your time," the reporter reassured the billionaire, easily sinking into his role as an ordinary man instead of the Kryptonian protector of Metropolis. "The world is simply eager to gossip over your return, or so I've been told." He thought Bruce Wayne's lips quirked up slightly in a smile before his expression became blank mask.

"I have no doubt about that," the only remaining Wayne said, his voice amused. "I have some experience with the way the public operates." Clark hummed a little and the boy snickered, pausing in the middle of whatever he was working on to grin up at Bruce again.

"We'll start with the simple questions," Clark said, settling into his chair. "Feel free to skip any questions you do not wish to answer."

"Thank you for that," Bruce replied with a wry twist of his lips. Clark relaxed further into his seat, deciding that maybe this wouldn't be as awkward as he had originally thought it was going to be.

"All right. Was there a reason for your sudden absence from Gotham?"

* * *

Sunset finally fell across a subdued Gotham, bathing her in shadows. Crouched on the roof of the Wayne Enterprise Tower were Batman and Robin, wrapped up in the darkness of their capes. The wind slid smoothly around them, as if they were simply part of the architecture, and if someone were to glance upwards they would most likely miss the figures completely. "So what's the plan for the night?" the boy asked, blue eyes sparkling. "Or are we just hanging around?"

Batman snorted and turned his attention to the child who grinned widely at him. "There's a jewel thief who has been hanging around Gotham lately," he said. "They call her Catwoman."

"Are you sure you want to do this B?" Robin asked, grin only widening when the man studied him with confusion. "After all, cats are known to catch bats." Then he launched himself off the roof, cackling as he went. Bruce shook his head, amused despite himself, and followed the boy into the cool night air. They had work to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story has reached its conclusion which means I'll be continuing The Road Less Traveled. There is also one story in between The Road Less Traveled and this, called The Last Laugh which will introduce the Joker to this universe (because I need him for reasons I can't disclose at the moment). Thank you all for reading and I hope you enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing it!


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